Sign of the Second Derivative
by nebulia
Summary: The long tale of epic proportions detailing the life of Elestra Rensleaus, Princess of Rensleaus, mother of Vidanric, and key player in the revoltuion. At the moment, taking place just under fifty years before CCD. Chapter 16 up FINALLY!
1. Your Book is Upside Down

A/N: This is the story of Elestra Renslaeus (the Princess of Renslaeus, Vidanric's mom) from birth to Mel's revolution. Will focus mainly on her relationship with Alaerec and her relationship with the Merindars, particularly Arthal and Galdran. I should get better.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. I was born on Savona, in the village of Tanliff-Savona, our capital. My father had only been to Court four or five times, for short periods, and during one of those, he met my mother, a social butterfly and a flirt. For two years, they argued, fought, and bickered through letters, and then he returned, and they began courting. But that is a completely different story.

I grew up taking frequent trips to Athanarel, spying on the Court leaders (who were formal and elderly), and living in the library. From when I knew what a library was, I consistently snuck off from my governess and went there, after a brief stop in the kitchens for some milk. The first time I remember doing this I was two. I couldn't read then, of course, but there was a section where there were picture books, sometimes with words and sometimes without, and I loved looking at those. Because of this, we went through governesses fairly quickly.

Of course, I began to learn things like etiquette and such when I was around three, and I learned how to embroider, paint, and play the harp, as well. However, the harp was my favorite. My first harp was very small, for I was a little puny, but now it would be considered a lap harp for me. I still play it as a lap harp, even now. 'Tis a very old harp, for sure, but the sound is beautiful.

However, I was always around adults. During this period, my mother had several miscarriages, probably due to all her time on the road. She was always lovely, my mother, with auburn, waist-length ringlets, emerald green eyes, and a slim, tall, pale figure. But I always remembered her looking thin and wan and ill, her belly swollen but her face gaunt. She was still lovely, but her beauty was overridden by her illness.

My mother and my harp teacher were the closest things to friends I had my first few years. But my mother was too busy, and I only saw my harp teacher twice a week. So I turned to books.

I made my first friend when I was four. I was in the library hiding from a new governess (the scariest one yet), looking at a picture book, sounding out the words, which were not making any sense. Then I heard a voice.

"That's upside-down."

I jumped and dropped the book. "What?"

"I said, that's upside down. You're reading it all wrong."

I turned and saw a girl maybe a year or older than myself, with long, thick dark curls. Her large brown eyes sparkled a bit.

I looked at the book, and then at the girl. She was right.

I put the book back on the shelf and said, "Who are you?"

She extended a dainty (well, dainty for a five-year old) hand. "I'm Lady Ermliana Argaliar. And you are..."

"Lady Elestra of Savona," I said. "I'm going to be duchess of Savona someday." I felt like I had to brag. She seemed so royal!

"Really?" Ermliana asked. She appeared genuinely interested. "How old are you? I'm nearly six."

"I'm four and a half," I replied. "Do you read in the grown-up's books yet?"

She frowned. "I think I could, but my parents won't let me. They said I have to wait until I'm eight."

I sighed. "I never see my parents. My mother's sick all the time, and her tummy's all messed up. My father's busy. We travel from here to Savona a lot. It's tiring."

"Tiring? From here to Savona? How about from here to Renslaeus?"

We both jumped again, only this time I fell off my chair. I stood quickly, and climbed back onto the chair, where I could see better.

Standing there was a tall boy, his pale blond hair elaborately braided and gemmed, and his outfit ridiculously fancy. He had dark gray eyes, and a mouth that seemed more prone to laugh than cry. He looked to be about nine, but I wasn't sure.

Ermliana said softly, "Renslaeus? Isn't it that the—er—"

The boy said dully, "province that's nearly its own country? Yes. And someday I'm going to be Prince of it. Alaerec Renslaeus, Marquis of Shevraeth."

Ermliana and I introduced ourselves. The Marquis smiled and said, "Would you like to come to tea with me? Mother's a little overbearing. It would be nice to have some company."

Ermliana curtsied and agreed. I couldn't curtsy without falling, so I said, "Well, if my nanny doesn't catch me, I'd like to."

We never even got to Alaerec's tea. We spent the rest of gold-candle running all over Residence trying to escape my governess and the army of servants she sent looking for me. When Norilse, a maid, finally found me just after green-change, I had friends for the first time in my life.

Ermliana and Alaerec occasionally made me feel stupid and small, simply because of their life knowledge. So whenever I had free time, I was reading. I read just about everything, to be well-rounded; political satire, plays that were written down, histories, biographies, and plain old stories. By the time my brother was born when I was six, I had read most of the books I could read in the Savona library, the ones I could read being the shorter ones with larger print at the bottom of the shelves.

My brother was an education in himself. Named Jhussav after a king from five hundred years back, he was sweet dark-haired, and strong for a baby. He cried a lot, and nearly killed my mother. But afterwards, she had never been so healthy or beautiful. Papa often said she looked as though she did before I was born.

That made it sound like it was all my fault.

Ermliana and Alaerec comforted me. But as we grew, our relationships changed. Alaerec was still as close to us as ever, but more composed, and rarely smiled. His face was contorting into a Court mask, his voice becoming less inflected, his eyes growing darker and more serious. I did not see why. Our king—he was not the best, but he was not a dictator—was not in any sort of trouble; he kept his family from killing each other and the Orbaniths and the Khialems from destroying the country with their land battles. Although pirates were a constant threat, most were being controlled by Norsunder ("the only good thing Norsunder's ever done," my father said). There was nothing serious going on at Court—not even in secret. As I was young and friends with the kitchen staff (I often took tea and other meals in the kitchen to escape various governesses), I heard information not everyone knew. And there was nothing going on.

Ermliana became betrothed at eight years old to Derec the third, soon to be Baron of Orbanith, who was thirteen and certainly not planning on getting married until ten years after his Flower Day. She was quieter, sadder, paler.

I didn't seem to change much, other than the fact that I now had a brother who was small, squalling, and needed changing six times a day. But everything around me seemed different, and strange.

Maybe I was just growing up, I decided.

Post-A/N: This should get better. That sucked. But anyway, I'll post the next chapter as soon as possible. Please, construct and praise. Flames will be given poison and then their heads will be cut off, and adorn the palace gates. laughs manaically 


	2. Snowstone Bets

A/N: Reviews: A cyber-cookie for FelSong for being my one and only reviewer. You also get another cyber-cookie for being my first reviewer! I, too, hope I develop the persistence to finish this, as I really like the story.

Chapter two: Snowstone bets

* * *

Somehow, life continues. Even as Ermliana grew prettier and quieter, and Alaerec retreated more and more into his Court mask, I managed to coax them to relax sometimes.

I did this by challenging them to a bet. The first time I did it, I was nine, and Ermliana ten, and Alaerec fourteen. However, the most memorable one happened about two years later.

The truth of it was, all three of us were competitive, and we all liked to win. A lot. And it wasn't hard to challenge Alaerec during a sword practice.

. We all began to learn to swordfight when we were five, and Alaerec was (and not just because he was the oldest) the best. I was the worst.

I was short, scrawny, and not coordinated. On top of that, my hair, which was sort of a dark-ish brown color, was constantly in the way. I was a horrible swordswoman. But I was in a bout with Alaerec (who was beating me badly) when I said, "I'll make a bet with you."

His eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh?"

I nodded, breathing hard. "I'll bet three gold pieces and my snowstone hair gems that I can beat you in a race."

He was desperately trying not to laugh. "Horses?"

I did laugh, at least as best as my lungs let me. "No! Renselaeus has the best horses in the world. No, on foot."

"When?"

"This afternoon. During Court. In the Residence hallways. From the kitchens to the library and back, any path you want."

By this time Ermliana had finished her bout, and had been watching me lose with amusement. Ermliana wasn't much taller than me, but she had a natural skill with a sword I lacked. Alaerec and I finished (he won, of course), and he said, as he put away his practice sword, "It's a wager."

We shook on it.

* * *

Ermliana was to be the judge. We started at the kitchens, where we got water and some food just before green-change. Ermliana had thrown in a few coins, and Alaerec had added his knife sheath, which was carefully tooled and beautifully detailed. My brother's governess (really Norilse, the maid who had caught me when I was four) had my brother had toddled down to the kitchens, as had a collection of others. Wonderful, I thought. So now the whole world will know I lost.

(Actually, I loved to run. When I ran I wasn't worried about my parents or my brother or the books in the library or playing my harp or how badly my swordfighting and embroidery was. I was free.)

Alaerec and I stretched out, and Ermliana began to collect bets from the servants, grinning like a cat. She loved this, I could tell.

Alaerec chuckled softly. I glanced at him questioningly, and he said, "She loves doing this."

I nodded, smiling as well. "Ought to be a Player, that one."

We laughed, and I touched my nose to my knees.

* * *

But all too soon, the race had to start, and I was nervously twisting a ring I had gotten for my first Name Day around my thumb. Ermliana had borrowed a pan and wooden spoon from the cook, and now held it in her hand. "On your mark," she said, her eyes happier than I had seen in ages. "Get set...._GO!_" With that she banged on the pan. We took off, and instantly took different service passages. Mine wound through a few gardens, which I cut through; ruining my sword practice clothes, and came out in the memoir archive of the library. I rushed across it, and touched the wall that held the picture books as Alaerec rushed through the main library door. We waved briefly at one another, and then ran off again.

This time, I tried to run even faster.

I was going to lose, I knew it. Alaerec was just as fast as I was, and he had probably reserved his energy, unlike me. But I did like to run. And I liked to win. But I knew when I got tired, and I knew when I slowed down.

On second thought, I really liked those snowstone gems. I put on an extra burst of speed, and threw myself into the kitchens, landing flat on my brother, who merely laughed.

Ermliana helped me up. "What? Where's Alaerec?" I asked. She grinned at me.

As if to answer my question, Alaerec himself burst through the door.

The dessert cook handed me a glass of water. I took a sip, and said something along the lines of, "Hey! I get to keep my snowstone gems!"

And I got enough money from the servants as a whole to buy a new dress.

* * *

Interestingly enough, that afternoon over dinner, we heard about the birth of the crown prince. It was Alaerec's mother who said the prince was ill, and might not pull through.

Alaerec paled slightly, and Ermliana and I glared at him. "And when," Ermliana said, "were you going to inform us there was a _crown prince_?"

Alaerec said, "He's two weeks old, and he's been sick since birth. I didn't say anything, because if he dies, the King and Queen will be ridiculed. You know it's tradition!"

"Stupid tradition," I muttered. Alaerec snorted.

"He's got a sister, right?" Ermliana asked.

Alaerec nodded. "Arthal. She's almost three. Pretty little thing, except for the eyes, which are very—er—creepy. They're cold, you see—sort of harsh."

"Why isn't she crown princess?" I asked.

"Oh--" Alaerec said, and thought for a moment. "They follow the Marloven tradition of the son inheriting, don't ask me why."

My mother heard this, and muttered, "They're Merindars, that's why."

There was a collected laugh around the table. I asked, "So what's the crown prince's name?"

Ermliana nodded fervently, and a glance went around the table, ending at Alaerec. Every adult's eyes said, _You shouldn't have told them that._ I winced for him. Alaerec, of course, didn't flinch. My father said, "Galdran."

"Galdran," I whispered. The name sounded foul in my tongue.

"I know," Alaerec muttered. "What _were_ they thinking?"

He wasn't looking in my eyes. He was, rather, staring at my hair, which was carefully arranged with the snowstone gems. I knew he didn't really want the gems, but they were the only unisexual hair gems I had.

Ermliana glanced at my face, and followed Alaerec's eyes to my hair. Something flickered in her own eyes, but I didn't catch it.

As I left the table, I wondered, _What is it with my hair and those gems?_

* * *

Post-A/N: I suppose a lot of you are wondering, "Why doesn't Alaerec hang out with people his own age?" He does, some of the time. When the story gets a bit more steady, and not just random memories, you'll see. Also, I figure that anyone not married is kept mainly out of sight. After all, Nee says in CD, (pg. 245) "...my grandmother talks of how old the Court leaders were, and how very, very formal." (While Ermliana is not Nee's grandmother, her older brother (who has yet to come into the story) is her grandfather.) Anyway, I figured that very few young people were at the palace, or that they rarely saw other young people because there were kept out of sight.

Also, you just witnessed a bit of Elestra/Alaerec pre-fluff.

Please review if you read. I'd like to know what you think.


	3. Strange pasts and Precoscoius Children

A/N: All right, some confusion, I know I know I know.

Here. This should help.

The snowstone gems may or may not have later significance. Most likely they will, but I'm not sure. It's also possible that they end up as Nee's snowstone gems she gives to Mel on her first ball. But that may not happen, either.

Relationships:

Alaraec's mother is the sister to the King. She adopted into the Renselaeus family when she married Alaraec's dad. Elestra's family and Ermliana's family are distant cousins, so after the two kids met, it became somewhat profitable to become friends. Because Elestra and Ermliana did sometime get around to Alaraec's mother for tea, the back-then Princess of Renselaeus welcomed the two families into her social graces. Jhussav is Russav's (Danric's cousin, friend, Mel's "flirt," yeah, him) dad. Arthal, Flauvic's mom, is a few years younger than him. Galdran is younger than her. Derec the third, who Ermliana's betrothed to (remember him?) is Derec's (Mel's flirt) grandpa. Ermliana is not his wife. Ermliana's older brother, Lestran, is Nee's grandfather.

Another character who may come into the story is Debegri. He's Elestra's age or so. I hoped this cleared things up for all you out there. Thinking it out helped me.

Reviewers:

**Wake-Robin: **Thank you! I'm glad you like it. I'm hoping you'll update Forgetting the Past soon... hint, hint, wink, wink

**Rubic-cube:** I'm glad you like it. I hope what I stated above helped you. Sorry the information about the snowstone gems is rather vague.

**FelSong:** The race was fun to write. BTW, I just read Pirate Princess and _love_ it! It's marvelous. Anyway, I hope above answered your questions as well.

**aussiegirl of sunshine**: Thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

**Moonsong:** Original? Thank you! I'm so glad you think it is, 'cause it's nice to do something new. That's an awesome compliment.

And on with ch. 3:

**Strange pasts and precocious children**

On my twelfth Name Day, I met Arthal Merindar.

She was three, and had lovely red-gold hair, and cold blue eyes.

And she was quite precocious.

"You're short," she told me as soon as she met me. "That hair doesn't do anything to help it."

I had taken to piling my waist-length brown hair on top of my head, carefully securing it with hairpins, ribbons, and gems. It did add a few inches, and it looked nice. But when Arthal said that, it made me feel even shorter.

I raised myself up as tall as I could, and said, "I'm quite aware I'm short, _your grace_, and I wear my hair this way because I like it." I glared down at her. She was about as tall as my waist, which was rather pathetic for me. She was only _three_, burn it!

Alaraec snorted behind me. Nowadays he was always laughing at me, but nowadays I wasn't exactly graceful. Mother said I would grow out of it, for I had had a natural grace in childhood.

I had liked to dance, and run, then. But if I had any grace, it had hidden itself away for six months and would probably remain hidden for a good long while.

Maybe when I stopped growing so fast, I supposed. Three years ago I had been Arthal's height. Even now, the gown I had had for my last Name Day was several inches too short. I disliked it immensely (the growing, not the gown. Actually, I had _loved_ that gown, but it was now too small.).

Arthal had given me a glare that was slightly chilling, but I ignored it. "She'll be a terror when she's old enough to participate in Court," I muttered to Alaraec as she left my name day party. His eyes narrowed in amusement, but he tried very hard not to laugh.

Also on my twelfth Name Day, I received a pleasant surprise. Or, more to the point, Ermliana received a pleasant surprise. Alaraec, Ermliana, and I were sitting in my suite having some coffee (mine and Alaraec's loaded with honey, chocolate, and sugar, Ermliana's just plain, which made me shudder every time she took a drink), when Ermliana's brother, Lestran, nineteen years old and about to be married to Liselia Khialem, rushed in and picked up Ermliana, swinging her around.

Ermliana burst into giggles, for she was nearly too big to be doing that (except for the fact that Lestran was built like a bear), and said, "Why so happy?"

Lestran plopped down and poured himself some coffee as I asked, a little too late, "Would you like ?"

"Thank you, Elestra," he told me, openly grinning. "Such a wonderful hostess. Always on your toes and fast on the uptake." I laughed. He never really mastered the Court mask and always showed his true emotions. He turned to Ermliana. "Derec Toarnevdar the third, baron of Orbanith, eloped with Mashi Chamadis to his barony. Consider your engagement over."

Ermliana gaped at him. "Why?"

Lestran grinned. "He and Mashi have been twoing for some time, and because Derec has donated half his fortune to help train the army, he is now Count of Orbanith. So he decided it was time for him and Mashi to get married secretly, and go off to Orbanith."

I burst into laughter, as did Alaraec.

Ermliana collapsed onto the cushions, and began to laugh as well. "I'm free!" she cried, waving her arms about. "Free, free, free, _free!_"

Even my emotionless maid, Sarina, laughed at her antics.

Ermliana seemed much happier after that. Three months later, when the Orbaniths came back to Court and Mashi announced she was two months pregnant, Ermliana was the first to congratulate her.

* * *

Mashi's child was a boy, named Derec the fourth (that was surprising), and he would inherit Orbanith. My brother questioned me about it after he round out.

"Lessie, why is everyone 'cept you who's getting their lands a boy?"

I thought about this. "It's because I'm the oldest, and all the other oldest are boys."

He frowned at me. "Galdran's not."

I sighed. "Galdran's special. He's going to be king. Arthal is the oldest, though, and she'll be inheriting the Merindar lands and title."

He still frowned. "I don't get it. Being a king is specialler than being a Merindar."

"It's more special, Jhussav, not specialler. And the Merindars are different. They don't count."

He seemed satisfied with this. "Oh," he said, a little contentedly. "That's good. They're mean."

I laughed.

* * *

In truth, King Lourden, Galdran's father, wasn't that bad. He was smart and fair, and didn't raise taxes on the middle and lower classes. His wife, Queen Marscopa, was a little frivolous at times, but he took the money from taxes on the nobles and his own treasury. He was a pretty thrifty King, too, so that helped some.

Alaraec's parents, the Prince and Princess of Renselaeus, had retreated back to their supposedly fabulous castle in the principality, while Alaraec remained in Athanarel as the delegate of Renselaeus and Shevraeth.

When Ermliana and I asked Alaraec about the King, his answer was a little vague. "He's better than every other Renselaeus we've ever had," he said. "He's really a decent King. But his past...is odd."

"What's it like?" Ermliana and I demanded in unison.

"It's just...odd. Confusing."

"That doesn't help much," I said.

"It's all I can give you," he said helplessly.

"Why?" Ermliana said.

"I'm not allowed to say anything else," he replied, and glared at the ceiling.

Ermliana and I resolved to do some searching in the library.

* * *

I was playing my harp during third-white, the week after the strange conversation with Alaraec, when Ermliana burst in, fully dressed and hair gemmed and braided. "Let's go to the library!" she cried.

"Ermliana, I'm not—"

"Dressed, yes, yes I know." She ran to my wardrobe and pulled out a blue gown, and some undergarments. She grabbed some hair gems and helped me dress quickly, and then put up my hair haphazardly, and then grabbed my hand. We rushed out of my suite quickly, just as Sarina walked through the servant's door.

"Bye, Sarina," I yelled as we left.

"Why are you in such a tearing hurry?" I demanded as she pulled me down the hallway. I managed to rip my hand out of her grasp and tried to put my hair into some sort of order.

"Because," Ermliana said breathlessly, "That's a big library. And today's an all-day Court session. If we work all day, maybe we can find out something about the King."

Realization dawned on me. "Ermliana, you're brilliant!"

"I try to be," she responded loftily as we ran into the library.

I figured, since it seemed that Alaraec could not tell us and so desperately seemed like he wanted to, that maybe everyone who was involved in Court was under some sort of spell, maybe set on by the King. I told Ermliana so, and she said it sounded reasonable. We started to look, her in the Council of Mages section, mine in the memoir archive.

Four cups of coffee and two candle-changes later, during second-gold, Ermliana cried, "Come look at this!"

It was a recent list of mages wanted by the Council of Mages because they hadn't been approved. I scanned it quickly, and then dropped the paper.

"Did that say what I thought it said?" I asked Ermliana. I rubbed my eyes as she picked up the paper and handed it to me.

At the bottom of the page, there was one name we recognized: _Marscopa Likshen Merindar, Queen of Remalna._

Post A/N: I'll leave you here because I'm still working out her story, which Ermliana and Elestra will find in another book. It's a full passage of the book, which is why it's taking forever.

Please, I'd like to see your thoughts and suggestions on this. I'd also like to see ideas for a new title, hint, hint, wink, wink , pretty pretty please?


	4. Searching

A/N: All right, this is a fun chapter because Elestra discovers her ability to sound like a shrill old lady. It was fun to write because it helped me discover how Ermliana and Elestra had truly changed since their meeting eight years previous; it delves a little more deeply into Elestra's thoughts than the past couple chapters. Here goes….

**Searching**

We searched in the Council of Mages section, looking for the most recent books. And it wasn't long before I found a passage in a very long Council of Mages report (A/N: Think 9/11 commission and how it was published in book format) that had come in with the newest shipment.

_While many mages' purposes are easily known and realized, some are not. One of these mages is Queen Marscopa Likshen Merindar, the Queen of Remalna. _

_Marscopa was born in Marloven Hess. Her parents were poor ditchdiggers, with very little money. As a child, Marscopa would kill mice, rats, cats, and other animals she found on the streets to feed her family. When she was thirteen, she abandoned her ailing parents and ran away to Norsunder._

_Marscopa was trained in Norsunder and Sles Adran, by the palace mages. Her skill grew quickly, and within months she was stronger than her teachers. At the same time, she was gaining beauty and getting money. She was made a Countess in Sles Adran for a yet unknown reason, as, soon after becoming a Countess, parts of the Adrani Court library was burnt. This was not an accident. Traces of Marscopa's magic were left all over the burnt section, and it was the section that held all official papers and promotions. At this point the Council _of Mages_ began to sense Marscopa's power, but, as there are many mages in the Adrani Court, it was ignored. _

_Also around this time the Crown Prince Lourden Merindar began his nations tour for his Flower Day. When he stopped in the Adrani Court, he became close friends with Marscopa, and soon became her lover. His actions after that moment prove she had bewitched him. Within a month of meeting her, Lourden married her, complete with fidelity rings. Not long after that, Marscopa became pregnant, but her child was stillborn. _

_Marscopa is now the Queen of Remalna. No one is, at the moment, sure why she rose to power, or why she seduced Lourden. However, without the proof of her magic—when she left Sles Adran the mages used a spell to destroy every trace of her magic, and the only spells she has done in Remalna are dark spells, almost totally undetected by the Council, the Council cannot arrest her. We can only hope to be on our guard and watch every spell coming from Remalna as best we can._

Ermliana and I looked at each other.

"So that's why Alec can't talk about the king's past!" I exclaimed, realization dawning on me.

"And why the King caters to the Queen's every wish…" Ermliana added. Then she stopped. "What did you just call Alaraec?"

I felt my face go up in flames. "A-Alec."

She smiled, a slow smiled that was making me nervous. "Do you want to know what he called you the other day?"

Ermliana, if one might've wondered, had a penchant for reading tales of romance and love that I, Alaraec, and just about all of Court found sappy and disgusting.

I shook my head. "No. Ermliana, I'm _twelve_! I'm not even old enough to have a flirt!"

"You'll be thirteen soon," Ermliana reminded me. "In two weeks, as a matter of fact, and--"

"Hush," I ordered shrilly, sounding so much like Alaraec's mother that Ermliana looked around in horror for a moment and then burst into giggles.

"You should be a player!" she shrieked, laughing. I laughed too, thinking, _If I never become Duchess of Savona, that's an idea._

She calmed down quickly, but the book and the queen were already forgotten. Ermliana had changed over the years; she was more serious in moments of serious-ness, but when she laughed, she was hysterical. That, and her love of romance novels had changed her; but I didn't like her any less. She was still my best friend.

She and Alaraec were also my only friends. Despite the fact that we had met some of the other children, their reactions to myself and Ermliana were much like the reaction Arthal gave me. So we remained with Alaraec, playing with his friends that were his age rather than the ones out age. And they welcomed us, mostly as students. Ermliana and I learned how to dance, talk with fans, and how to horseback ride. I also received helpful tips from a thin young woman, Yolandis, who was Countess of Tlanth, on how to use your size and your opponent's weight against them in sword and hand-to-hand fighting. She and her husband were the oldest of Alaraec's friends, and they had a small son who was six.

But we still weren't truly friends with them, just aquaintences, or babies.Perhaps it was because we were still little girls. We couldn't flirt, we couldn't two, we couldn't even attend balls. Well, Ermliana could, but I couldn't.

And yet, I was nearly thirteen. Soon, I could attend balls. Then I could have flirts, and when I had my Flower Day, in five years, I would be able to get married.

Five years, I decided, was an awfully long time.

Ermliana would've told me five years was a wonderfully long time.

* * *

A/N: More writer's block!!

Things are going to go much much quickly now. Expect some Elestra/Alaraecromance soon. Sorry this is so short.

If you're wondering why I'm not telling you that Elestra has a crush on Alaraec, she doesn't. Or if she does, she doesn't know it.

**BUT:**Elestra knows that Ermliana has the Remalnan equivalent of a sick mind, and if she starts looking the way she looked at that moment (rather sly) then she knows she's in for an embarrassment. Ermliana is going to be instrumental in getting them together simply by being sick-minded.

Yes, some adventure is coming up. Yes, it involves the quickly-forgotten excerpt of the book at the beginning of the chapter.

Reviews:

**Moonsong: **Thank you. Thanks also for the title suggestion. I'm opening a poll so people can vote.

**FelSong: **I'm glad the 'family tree' helped. Here's an update for you.

**Aussiegirl: **Thanks for the title suggestion. As I told Moonsong, I'm starting a poll. Feel free to contribute more if you wish.

**Wake-Robin: **Thank you. Here's your update.

**THE UBER-GRAND TITLE COMPETITION AND POLL:**

**I, nebulia, am starting a poll for my title because I absolutely hate the one I have. There are two suggestions in the box right now, and for the next three chapters (until chapter eight, let's say) will be open for suggestions. Please contribute; I will love you forever if you do.**

**Suggestions:**

**_-Life of an Elder_, from Moonsong**

**-_Sign of the Second Derivative, _from aussiegirl of sunshine.**

**Don't understand what the hell the above phrase means? Aussiegirl says: "I don't know how good you are in maths but to find the second derivative you have to differentiate an equation twice and by doing that it allows you to find out a whole lot of different things that you didn't realise at first just by looking at the original thing. But if you hate maths dont worry."**

**There are the first two suggestions. I WANT MORE!!!!!**

**Later,**

**Neb**


	5. Prelude to a Revolution

A/N: For those of you who do not enjoy doing math, with all the ages in here, this is around Elestra's fifteenth birthday. Probably not much after she turned fifteen. This makes Alaerec around nineteen or twenty, and Ermliana sixteen, as her birthday is around two months before Elestra's and she's fourteen months older than her.

And I just found out I've been spelling Alaerec's name wrong! ::sobs:: Why didn't anyone tell me????

Also, here you find Elestra is just a little…bitter. And possibly OOC. However, I say that she's OOC because it is around, in my reasoning, fifty years before Crown Duel. Fifty years is a looooong time to change character.

**Prelude to a Revolution**

I was at the first Name Day ball of Lestran and Liselia's first child, Shandra, when Alaerec asked me to dance.

I loved to dance. It was possibly the only time these days that I was graceful, and it was very relaxing. Unfortunately, while Alaerec was a decent dancer, he was around eight inches taller than me. This, and the extremely stiff, jeweled fashions of the day, made for some very interesting dancing, but I suppose that was what made it fun.

As we danced, I watched Liselia be congratulated by all of Court. Marscopa stood there, congratulating Liselia and smiling at the baby. Ermliana, who, as part of the family, was sitting with Lestran and Liselia, glared daggers at Marscopa.

As a tartelande, a version of a very old dance with a similar name, began, I noticed a small girl next to Marscopa. "Oh…no."

Alaerec, who had had his eyes closed and his face tilted slightly upwards and he blandly hummed along to the music (which had made me want to laugh badly), looked down at me. "What is it, Less?"

"Look over at Marscopa." I said dully.

His eyes narrowed as they flickered over the Queen, but when they settled on Arthal he frowned. "_Her?_ Oh, damn."

Arthal was now seven years old and a palace terror. She was cold, calculating, and tended to get the servants in trouble. Her brother, who was four, was worse, simply because he was pure evil and enjoyed breaking things. I often pitied young Derec Toarnevdar of Orbanith, who was three, and equally pitied young Timerius Astiar of Tlanth, who was eight, for they were the only children around the palace who were near the Prince and Princess' age. Thus they were designated as the official royal children's playmates.

Both Liselia and Ermliana looked ill when they saw Arthal. Alaerec murmured, "I think they need support," and we danced over to them.

I curtsied as I neared the Queen, and Alaerec bowed next to me. "Your majesties," I said coolly, "it's a pleasure to see you."

Marscopa grabbed my chin and tilted it up so I was forced to look in her face.  
At first I stared in her eyes, but they were mildly hypnotic pools of cold gray-blue. I looked at her nose instead,for her eyes seemed to stare into my soul wickedly. She smiled rather hungrily, as if she wanted something of mine. "It's Elestra of Savona, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Yes, your majesty."

Her smile widened. "And how _is_ your darling mother these days?"

My mother was marvelous. She was happy and popular and quite a leader of Court society. For the Court society, actually, she was quite young. I swallowed. "She's just fine, your majesty. Have you heard otherwise?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I was merely…wondering."

Alaerec touched my hand quickly behind my back warningly. Ermliana, whom I could just see out of the corner of my eye, gave me a _Be careful, Lessie _look.

I swallowed. "It's been nice to talk to you, your majesty," I said. She let go of my chin. "Hello, Lady Arthal," I added.

She looked at me. I looked back at her, eyebrows raised. Then, she smiled (which was just a tiny bit scary) and said, "Hello, Lady Elestra."

The seven-year-old then proceeded to have a civil conversation with me (while Marscopa talked with Liselia and Alaerec watched me and Arthal, looking stunned) about Queen Thearez's memoir _The Queen from the Plains_.

I have to admit, I was quite stunned myself.

Marscopa suddenly turned from Liselia angrily, and said sharply, "Come along, Arthal."

Arthal smiled at me coldly, and said, "'Twas a pleasure talking with you, Elestra. Perhaps the conversation will not bore me to tears next time."

"I feel quite the same, Lady Arthal," I responded, feeling my face heat up. "Do talk to me again sometime; perhaps when you're more awake it will be more interesting."

We smirked at each other, and then she turned and ran to catch up with her mother.

Alaerec was giving me that one assessing look he had, eyebrows raised. Liselia was talking to my mother. Ermliana was giving me her own look, in which one eyebrow was raised almost to her hairline.

I responded by waggling my eyebrows at both of them and then as I turned to walk over to the table where I could get food, I was stopped by someone around my age.

"May I have this dance?"

He was a half a head taller than me, and had what looked like a permanent sneer on his face. I asked, as politely as I could, "Who are you?"

He bowed, a little jerkily. "Nenthar Debegri. I'm Prince Galdran's cousin. My father, Inclenius Debegri, is Marquis of Merindar. My latemother, may she rest in peace,was the King's sister." He smiled arrogantly at me.

Ermliana touched her fan, which was hanging from a ribbon at her waist. I pulled up my own fan and waved it in Sarcastic Pleasantry Mode. "I'd be delighted to dance, your grace."

He looked at my fan with an boredom. "Oh, you are one of those women who indulge in that female foolery?"

Alaerec, who didn't carry a fan but used his fingers in the same way, motioned On Guard to me. Ermliana was doing the same with her fan. I shot a glare at both of them, and replied, my fan in the position of Giving Oneself the Lie, "I find that a fan is an essential tool for keeping myself cool after dancing all night."

"No code, eh? Somehow I don't believe that."

I attempted to smile at him, but I think it came out like a grimace. "Oh, no, sir. Just a way to cool off in the warm air."

He really was a foul fellow. Venal, and power-hungry, and definitely hated Arthal for being the one who would inherit the Merindar lands, instead of him.

He wasn't a very good dancer, either.

The ball itself might've been interesting, but it was the week afterwards when all chaos broke loose.

Of course, Debegri, who was staying in Athanarel for no apparent reason, seemed to follow me around for awhile, looking like a lost puppy and making stumbling, horrible conversation with Ermliana, Alaerec, and myself.

Ermliana could barely control her contempt. Alaerec didn't like him, but one couldn't tell due to the fact that he constantly wore his Court mask. I was somewhere between the two of them.

But, of course, I was the one who messed everything up.

Debegri was as horrible a swordsman as he was everything else. However, he thought he was an excellent swordsman, due, I suppose, to the lack of good swordsmen at Merindar (Merindar had a bad militia, bad lands, and a bad debt. In fact, the only things they really had were the Kingship and a long stretch of South Mountain River, which had very fine fishing, and supplied most of Remalna's fish.). So, naturally, the first morning he was at morning practice, he challenged me to a bout.

We were, surprisingly, equally matched. Several times I even managed to use his size against him, and was one hit up on him by the time we tired, twenty minutes into the fight.

We circled, breathing hard, and I noticed that the bout had drawn a crowd.. Debegri adjusted the grip on his practice sword for a moment, and Alaerec, standing behind Debegri, motioned for me to strike. I lunged quickly, thrusting my sword into his ribs, in what would've been a fatal move, had we been using real swords.

(Of course, the move was not a part of any strategy whatsoever, but I figured that whatever worked, well, worked.)

Alaerec, Ermliana, and several others cheered. I grinned triumphantly; it was the first match I'd ever won. Debegri spit on the ground and threw down his sword angrily. Ermliana snickered. "What's wrong, Debegri? A little sore about losing?" she taunted.

I lost control of my own façade as well. "Is it because I'm smaller than you or because I'm a girl?"

Debegri glared at me, his eyes so full of hate I was momentarily stunned. I shrugged it off, and continued. "Found out you're not such a fine swordsman, eh, Nenthar? You think I was good, but Alaerec over there could trounce you in an instant."

Debegri snarled at me, "I thought you were a nice girl. A polite girl. Not an arrogant bitch so ecstatic over winning a stupid bout for the first time that she ridicules her opponent. You'll get it, Elestra. You just wait."

He turned and stalked off.

I sat down in the middle of the court, stunned. Alaerec and Ermliana walked over to me; Ermliana looking triumphant, Alaerec's Court mask gone.

I read in his eyes worry, fear, and a single sentence.

_You shouldn't have done that._

--------

Reviews:

**Stargirl98: **Thanbk you for the title suggestions!

**Wake-Robin**--Sorry, this chapter didn't have much romance for you in it. I had some problems getting it to come out correctly and then I had writer's block and then my computer froze and I lost like half of it, and then I washopeless, and then my 'puter (or Snookums, as I fondly call him) recovered it for me, and so I kinda just cut off the chapter short. If that made sense.

**FelSong: **Thanks for the title suggestion! I make up lame titles, too, as is the reason I started the freakin' poll in the fist place, but trust me, yours are much much better.

OK. Here's the update on **THE UBER-GRAND TITLE COMPETITION AND POLL:**

I have some new titles, and a vote.

Here are the suggestions:

_-Life of an Elder_, from Moonsong

-_Sign of the Second Derivative, _from aussiegirl of sunshine.

Don't understand what the hell the above phrase means? Aussiegirl says: "I don't know how good you are in maths but to find the second derivative you have to differentiate an equation twice and by doing that it allows you to find out a whole lot of different things that you didn't realise at first just by looking at the original thing. But if you hate maths dont worry."

--_Times Past_ from FelSong

--_Legend in the Making_

_--Budding Sovereign_

_--Presage to Righteousness_, all from StarGirl98

Feel free to offer more suggestions--there's still two more chapters before I close the suggestion box.

I hope to have this all sorted out by chapter 10.

--------------

Also, I have recently decided to come out into the open. ::deep breath, bursts into tears:: I admit it!!! I am a review whore!!! ::sobs:: Please review and tell me what you think...I'll give you not one, not two, but _three whole cyber-cookies!!!!_ Now that's an offer you can't resist!

Signing off, /br> nebulia


	6. Under the Weather

A/N: I know this is really short, but I felt the proper ending is right where it is. Here comes another plot twist, and…duh-duh-duh!! My first cliffie!!! ::GASP::

**Under the Weather**

Alaerec was certain that Debegri would act.

"He's vengeful, and he doesn't seem the type to plan," he told me. I agreed with him, but inside I was wracked with guilt so terrible that I thought I couldn't think.

Ermliana, who had never been versed in political ways, did not quite understand until Alaerec and I explained it at a concert one night.

We were, however, surprised when a month went by and nothing happened. I was certain that he would do something to Ermliana or Alaerec.

Of course, then he did something totally unexpected.

My family had traveled to Savona that fall, so Father could look over his lands and the rest of us would have a holiday. Jhussav and I raced horses, fought, both hand-to-hand combat and with swords, and read. My mother entertained some of the vassals and stopped in Tanliff-Savona, the closest village, to talk with the elders. We always joined her for breakfast after harp practice.

That is, until the day Jhussav and I walked into Mama's sitting and her maid told us, "M'lady is feeling a bit under th'weather t'day, children, and won't be joinin' ye for breakfast."

"What's wrong?" I demanded. Jhussav nodded firmly next to me.

The maid, Ilsana, shook her head. "We're not quite sure."

"Can I see her?" Jhussav and I asked at the same time.

"No," Ilsana said, and turned around, going back into the room.

* * *

We left for Athanarel the next day, and were there by sundown, where Mama was immediately taken to a healer. 

"I don't know what's wrong with her," he said. "Keep her in bed, and here's a kinthus potion to ease any pain."

Mama nodded, and said quickly, "Let's go, Lessie."

* * *

Mama was in bed, not really any weaker than she has been before. "Lessie, would you play your harp for me?" 

I played for her often, hardly ever leaving her room. Alaerec and Ermliana often stayed in there with me, simply sitting.

* * *

I talked with my mother for the first time ever, truly talked to her. We had always been fairly close, but we hardly ever saw each other. She was a wonderful woman, my mother. I began to actually get to know her as a friend, not just as my mama. 

And after about two weeks, she began to get better. She got up and walked around, she took visitors in her sitting room, she played her harp, she even went out for a ride once. She talked with me, treating me as an adult friend of hers, not just her daughter. I began to love her, to love her in the way I loved Alaerec and Ermliana, as a dear friend, not just as a distant mother.

I also began to join her for luncheon every midday, in a small dining room off her sitting room that was open to anyone on our side of the Residence wing to use.

I was heading to that dining hall from my rooms after sword practice when I ran into Marscopa and Debegri.

They were never in the Residence wing. However, although I was surprised, I said quickly, "Hello your majesty, Nenthar," as I passed them. Marscopa said cheerily as she passed, "Good day, Elestra," and Debegri smirked at me.

I hurried into the dining room, murmuring, "Sorry I'm late, Mother—"

My mother was lying on the floor.

Dead.

* * *

Reviews: 

Thank you to my two reviewers. See my review notice at the bottom

**Wake-Robin:** Thanks. I'm glad you like it, especially without the fluff. But it's coming! In ::thinks:: no more than two chapters. ::gives out three cyber-cookies::

**Thea:** You like the title I have now? Wow. You have strange taste. No offense or anything. I'm very glad I made your day. ::Gives out three cyber-cookies::

OK. Here's the update on **THE UBER-GRAND TITLE COMPETITION AND POLL:**

I haveno new titles, and two votes: one for SOTSD, and one for the title I have now...whatever (you have strange taste, Thea!).

Here are the suggestions:

_-Life of an Elder_, from Moonsong

-_Sign of the Second Derivative, _from aussiegirl of sunshine.

Don't understand what the hell the above phrase means? Aussiegirl says: "I don't know how good you are in maths but to find the second derivative you have to differentiate an equation twice and by doing that it allows you to find out a whole lot of different things that you didn't realise at first just by looking at the original thing. But if you hate maths dont worry."

--_Times Past_ from FelSong

--_Legend in the Making_

_--Budding Sovereign_

_--Presage to Righteousness_, all from StarGirl98

Feel free to offer more suggestions--there's still two more chapters before I close the suggestion box.

I hope to have this all sorted out by chapter 10.

* * *

Also, I have recently decided to come out into the open, as those of you who read the last chapter discovered...here is the exact post.... ::deep breath, bursts into tears:: I admit it!!! I am a review whore!!! ::sobs:: Please review and tell me what you think...I'll give you not one, not two, but _three whole cyber-cookies!!!!_ Now that's an offer you can't resist! 

Now, for all who review, you get not three, but _four whole cyber-cookies!!!!!_ Please, please, if you read this, review it. Even if it's just a flame, review it because I want to know what everyone thinks about my writing. If you think there's a characterization error, or a grammar mistake, tell me. I want to hone my writing skills. Please review...I'd like to give the whole world cyber-cookies if I could.

nebulia


	7. Loss of a Soul

A/N: This is really short again, but Marscopa, Debegri, and Elestra kind of took my idea here and ran with it. And I like it. And expect a new chapter soon, like maybe tomorrow or Wednesday, ok?

**Loss of a Soul**

At that point, everything went fuzzy and blurred. However, I was able to piece together the events afterward.

I think I screamed then, and quickly fell to my knees to see if she was breathing. Which she wasn't.

Her face was pale, and her green eyes open and staring, pupils merely pinpoints. And her eyes—they were not the color of piercing green they usually were, but rather, a green so light it was almost white, like cabbage. She looked as if someone had—had taken her soul.

I heard footsteps, fast, hurried footsteps and then Marscopa appeared behind me, eyes bright, cheeks slightly flushed, looking overly alive, as though she was so strong she could hardly live, simply because she was so alive. "Is she—oh, Elestra, I'm _so sorry_!" She didn't look it, or sound it, I noticed distantly, and the world went black for a second. Suddenly, it cleared, and I stood.

"No, you're not," I said, staring into those hypnotic eyes. "You're not sorry, because _you killed her."_

She smiled coolly at me. "You can't prove it."

I saw Debegri standing behind her, smirking, his smile so wide I could've ridden my horse through it.

He had gotten his revenge. But this was much more, I realized fuzzily. Much, much more.

"Get out." My voice was cold, hard, and didn't sound like my voice. "Get out of this building before I kill you."

Of course, I couldn't kill Marscopa if I tried. She was just too strong. And she just took my mother's soul, I figured.

I felt a sudden magnetic force, and my face burned like fire. I turned it towards Marscopa slowly, and it lessened as I met her eyes. They glowed unnaturally, hot and gray-blue. "You couldn't kill me if you tried," she hissed joyfully. "Not after I took your mother's soul, which is intertwined with your own. Your life and mine are connected. You cannot physically kill me. In fact, I wield great power over you, as does my nephew here."

"Why?" I hissed, feeling a flare of pain as I hissed the word. She didn't want me to talk.

"I need your help, Elestra."

"No." My voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes. You have befriended my other nephew, Alaerec. Or perhaps you've done more, eh?"

I shook my head violently, horrified. "Just a—just a—"

"Just a flirt?" She laughed at me, her eyes full of a mirth that made me shudder.

I shook my head again. "Just a--a _friend."_

I met here eyes squarely, and she seemed to read my mind for a moment. She blinked, and looked unsettled as she nodded the tiniest hint of a nod. "For now, at least," she whispered, half to herself.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

She looked back at me, and smiled silkily. "You'll know when I need you, Elestra."

She winked, and I felt a flash of pain as she left, Debegri throwing me one last sneer as he left.

I was left alone, my body shaking from pain and sorrow, tears pouring down my face.

And suddenly everything was black.

* * *

**Stargirl98:** Sorry, I gave you a short chapter again. But I hope you like it. The next chapter is long, though.

**toomuchhomework: **I _love_ your name! It's hilarious! And yeah, the Merindars are brutal, but basically Debegri went to Marscopa for an idea, and Marscopa needs Elestra because she's strong, friends with the son of the Prince of Renslaeus, and is young, so they decided that killing her mother was a good way to get a soul, and thus, more life, get back at Elestra, and get Elestra herself.And Debegri's lusting after Elestra anyway, so the fact that he has power over her is a plus. But yeah, the Merindars are really brutal and enjoy using people for things they need.

**Thea:** Yeah, I hated Debegri, too. He was a bumbling idiot, but he was an evil bastard of a bumbling idiot, and that's how I'm trying to portray him. As for the name thing...well, I've decided to end the poll thing and am choosing the new name now. See below for more information.

**Wake-Robin:** Oh, yes. Death is certainly a way to end a chapter. So is the above way. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry it's short...it wasn't my idea!cowers behind Elestra, Marscopa, and Debegri, trembling

**rubic-cube:** Thank you! You're always so nice to me...Have a cookie! ::gives cookie::

And, for all my beloved reviewers, here are your not one, not two, not three, but _four whole cyber-cookies!!!!_ gives Stargirl98, toomuchhomework, Thea, Wake-Robin, and rubic-cube _four whole cyber-cookies!!!_

* * *

Also, The uber-grand name competion and poll is over. I just got bored with it. I have decided on aussiegirl of sunshine's title _Sign of the Second Derivative_. Congrats and thank you oh soooooo much, aussiegirl!! dumps random and very good and coolgifts on top of aussiegirl of sunshineThank all the rest of you for volunteering titles...they were ALL better than mine. (Sorry, Thea.)

Remember, I give you four cyber-cookies if you review! FIVE WHOLE REVIEWS!! I LOVE YOU ALL!! Four more cyber-cookies, and, if you offer me constructive criticism, you get a better story!!! ( Sorry, I just had a bowl of M&Ms and I'm hyper.)

Signing off,  
nebulia


	8. Bound and Planning

A/N: I'm not really too pleased with this chapter...but it's a transition, so...yeah. If you want a bit of info, check out Stargirl98's review response...it may explain things a bit. Also, go to Colorwoods, which you can find off of Sherwood Smith's website (www DOT sff DOT net SLASH people SLASH sherwood, replacing the DOT and the SLASHES with . and /, respectively.), andthe Q&A sectionsgive you some very nice info about Remalna and its world. Also...next chapter is the beginning of a revolution and the collapse of Marscopa...and maybe a bit of REAL E/A romance...as in a kiss? Hmmm. But maybe not.

And I was looking in my chapter manager section, looking for the story, and then I thought it had been deleted, until I remembered I'd changed the title. Silly me...of course, I can't string coherent thoughts together at the moment, so whatever.

**Bound and Planning**

I came to in my bed; Jhussav, Ermliana, and Alaerec were sitting next to it.

Jhussav was the first to notice I was awake.

"Lessie!" he cried and threw himself on me. I flinched. He backed off quickly. "Oh…did I hurt you?"

"No, you just surprised me, Jhussav," I told him. "Why am I—"

_Damn._

"Mother…"

Jhussav nodded. "Ermliana found you collapsed over her…body. What happened? Do you know how she died?"

I began to speak, a little haltingly, for it hurt to talk about it. "I was coming from word practice, and I was late to luncheon, and I walked in, and she was dead on the floor, and then Marscopa came in and—"

A flash of pain. I doubled over, crying out. Alaerec touched my shoulder, very lightly.

_You have befriended my other nephew, Alaerec. Or perhaps you've done more, eh?_

I pulled away from his touch. "I can't tell you anymore. She—"

Another bolt of pain shot through my body, more powerful this time. I cried out again.

Ermliana was thinking, fingers playing with a curl hanging by her face. "She…let's see…she…"

"Took my mother's—" I hissed before I nearly blacked out.

"She took your mother's soul?"

I barely managed to nod.

Ermliana twisted the curl around her finger. I focused on it, trying to block all the pain, physical and emotional, from my thoughts. Ermliana's eyes lit up as the answer suddenly dawned on her. "And in taking your mother's soul, she managed to take a bit of yours, for you and your mother are closely intertwined, more so that me and you, or you and Alaerec, because you are her flesh and blood. Thus, since she had a bit of your soul, she can wield complete power over you, sending you immense pain or even killing you if you don't do or say what she wants." Her face fell as she realized what she said. "She can force you to kill others, friends or lovers or brothers or parents or anything. You can't say or write anything incriminating against her without automatically causing pain, even without her orders."

I managed to nod, and hissed, "Debe—" before it hurt again.

This time, it was Alaerec who jumped in. "And, knowing Marscopa, she's going to go over the top and use dark magic off your mother's soul and body to let him have the same power over you. Am I right?"

A hint of a nod.

"The bitch," my brother muttered. We all turned to him.

"Jhussav!"

* * *

I didn't really realize my mother was gone, really _gone,_until the next day, when I walked into my dressing room and Sarina told me to get dressed in my simplest dress, for we had to get fitted for mourning clothes. 

I believe I fainted. My mother…my mother was dead. Dead! She was my mother, the only person who understood why I loved to play the harp, the only person who could laugh at me about my deepest, most maladroit insecurities. (There were some things I could not share with Ermliana and Alaerec…especially Alaerec. But the fact that they were older, wiser, and knew more than me always made me feel like a lost puppy. And there were other things…other things I didn't even know how to put into words. My mother would look at me with her wise eyes of a woman who had suffered sorrow and still loved, deeply, and would say, "Someday, Lessie, you'll get it, I promise.")

But Sarina, who was a healer in her own right and had a daughter, Ilsa, who was just as gifted, revived me quickly. And I went, feeling finished and empty and completely alone.

At that time period, one dressed in total black, in the traditional mourning costume, for a week, and then, for another year, wore a touch of black, whether it be a bracelet, or a set of hair gems or ribbons, or even a black armband. The mourning costume was a simple dress, with long sleeves that were tight and wrinkled slightly in the lower arm, with a skirt that flared at the waist slightly. Over that was a black knit bodice, loose with a large band of tighter fabric at the bottom. Its sleeves were off the shoulder, a little longer than elbow-length, and very loose. Ribbons held the bodice up over the shoulders, and one's hair was carefully braided down the back and tied with simple black accessories. Men wore a black undershirt much like the top of the underdress, a loose tunic made of very light cotton, and loose black trousers, held up with a blackweave belt and matching boots. Hair was either braided down the back, or, if it was short, just left to be.

It was also traditional to, after a death, have a portrait done, in black and white, of the surviving immediate family, in mourning costume. I sat next to my father, Jhussav standing behind us. In my hand was a black fan, and a scroll of paper.

For I was now Duchess of Savona.

* * *

I didn't swear anything in Court. I would wait, at least, until after my Flower Day before I truly decided to be Duchess. But I was now required to attend Court, and I was also required to be at many parties and Court society things not even Ermliana was allowed to go to. My only friends at those were Alaerec and Yolandis Astiar of Tlanth and her son, Timerius, whose father had died a year before, and, as Count of Tlanth, was required to attend the same things I was. 

Ermliana, at sixteen, was able to attend some of the parties, balls, and other events I had to, but not all of them. And, as Duchess of Savona, I had Court duties twice a week.

My life, which had been full of reading, sword practice, and playing my harp suddenly became a busy hassle of Court, parties, picnics, and people I didn't know walking up to me apologizing about my mother.

It didn't help that my father was heartbroken. Jhussav and I were required to wear the mourning costume long after the designated period was over, and would not stand myself or my brother to mention her, even in passing.

He never got angry, just quiet. His eyes filled with a pain that made me feel guilty.

Especially after I was looking through her harp trunk for music.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice just nearly a whisper.

I stood quickly, smoothing my black skirt. "I—I was merely looking for some music of…of hers. It was a song she and I liked to play…and—and my copy got ruined in th--the rain recently."

All he said was a quiet, "Ah," as though he understood. But his face showed nothing but anguish, his eyes nothing but pain.

I cried myself to sleep that day, cried for my father, my mother, my brother, for Marscopa and Debegri and whatever they did to me, but most of all for me. For what I had become.

For what _had_ I become? I remembered what I had said to Debegri in the heat of a gloating victory. I remember what I felt when everyone said Jhussav's birth saved my mother, who had been ill after I had been born. I remembered pulling away from Alaerec simply because of a few foul words from Marscopa. I remembered countless other moments of jealousy, of hatred, of selfishness.

I shook it off. My mother was dead. I could fix things after I fixed my father. Of course, I had no idea on how to fix my father, but it would be done. Somehow.

* * *

I sat with Timerius at Lorni Chamadis' house during a gathering, bored out of my mind, despite the fact that it wasn't even a quarter of the way through first-blue. We were lodged in a corner; for even if we were required to attend a party, we had to stay out of sight. 

I watched one young lady sidled up to Alaerec and flirt with him, as he rolled his eyes and wandered off, attempting to shake her off by turning to one of his older friends and discussing swordplay with them. Amazingly, it worked. Timerius and I chuckled.

The door opened suddenly, and in walked the King and Queen, followed by a sullen Arthal. Timerius and I sighed.

Within moments, Arthal was in out little corner, sulking. Timerius leaned back and closed his eyes. Soft, boyish snoring was heard moments later. Arthal and I sneered at each other and did the same.

Arthal and I had developed a strange, twisted friendship over the years. It was mainly contrived of sneering at each other and insulting each other, peppered randomly with civil conversations. Somehow, she had discovered my hatred for Marscopa, but had always been bound to her and thus couldn't say anything about her. Now, since we were both bound, we couldn't do anything but exchange varying degrees of venomous glares at said evil Queen.

To tell you the truth, I had gotten used to the slight flashes of pain every time I tried to mention Marscopa. I had slowly stopped mentioning her, mostly, but I still laughed when Alaerec insulted her scathingly or Ermliana flattered her to her face, her fan saying exactly the opposite. Marscopa had, sadly (note the sarcasm), never learned fan language.

Arthal, I assumed, felt much the same, but she probably had more trouble, since she probably couldn't even yell at her mother without it hurting.

I had done some research, and discovered that the only way to undo the soul-binding spell was either the death of the caster or the receiver of the spell, or to strip the caster of their magic. Also, the soul-binding spell was Dark magic, which meant it was undetected by the Council of Mages.

Ermliana read the passage not much after I had read it, and told me, "You just sit back, Less. I'll take care of our favorite evil mage." She grinned.

I wasn't a hundred percent sure whether I liked that grin….

* * *

Well…nice mildly long chappie for ya there, folks. 

Reviews:

Only two reviews? Ah, well, must take the good with the bad, I guess.

**Stargirl98**: Wow. Thank you…I adoooore long reviews. Yeah, I'm getting rid of Marscopa soon…real soon…like the next few chapters. Only Elestra doesn't do it…Ermliana does. Elestra gets to testify at Marscopa's trial, though. As for the time frame…SS said in CCD that Elestra and Alaerec had Danric late in life, so, seeing as she's fifteen now, I figure she doesn't have Danric for around twenty or twenty-five years. What will happen in between then and now, you may ask? Well, the Pirate Wars and a lot of fluffy angst.

As for the magic controlling their lives…if you go to SS's home page, she has a link to Colorwoods, a site that takes FAQs about the book and Remalna and stuff from Yahoo's group CastleTlanth, and puts 'em up. There's a couple bits about magic, so I go by it. I haven't looked at it for a while, but basically there's light magic, that can do bad things, but (to me) is detectable by the Council of Mages. Then there's a sort of dark magic which gets its power from another living thing. In my little Remalnan world, it's undetected by the Council, mainly because it's very, very difficult and almost impossible to detect.

Hope that helps you. Wow. That's the longest review response I've ever written.

**Wake-Robin:** Thank you. Here's a nice, long, mildly happy, mildly angsty update for you….

Well, please read and review. The next chappie should be up within a week. Hopefully.

neb


	9. Letters, embraces, and an evil mage

A/N: A double Update! Whoopee!I know I told everyone it would be a triple update, but I'm having severe writer's block on the third chapter. It probably won't be up for a while. Review responses will be at the end of the next chapter--actually, it's an interlude, since it's not from Elestra's POV.

Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful world of Sherwood Smith. I do own Marscopa Likshen Merindar, Ermiliana Argaliar (although I don't own her last name), Lestran Argaliar,Liselia Khialem,Jhussav of Savona, Norilse the maid, Derec Toarnevdar the third, baron of Orbanith, Dered Toarnevdar the fourth, Mashi Chamadis, King Lourden Merindar, Shandra Argaliar, Inclenius Debegri, Yolandis Astiar, Countess of Tlanth, I own Timerius Astiar's first name, but not the character, SS never states his name, Lorni Chamadis, Inina tha maid, and Nori the maid. And the list grows next chappie...but this was fun! I have oh so many OCs here. I don't own Alaerec, Elestra, Gladran, Arthal, and the character that I gave the name Timerius.

**Letters, embraces, and an evil mage**

The messenger handed me a letter. "It's from Lady Ermliana, Your Grace," he said.

I frowned. "Why—"

He shrugged. "I don't know, Your Grace." Then he bowed and walked to the door.

I opened the letter, pondering. Ermliana lived just across Residence; why couldn't she have come and talked to me herself?

_Elestra—_

_My mother hired me a new maid, Inina. I snuck through her files. Inina was a former maid of Marscopa's. I think she was sent to spy on me since Nori died. _

_I fear I may have been a little open in my contempt of the Queen, and since, being a friend of you, I have become something of treasonous person. _

_I am sincerely sorry. Should you wish to cut ties with me for safety, I will not resent you._

_Ermliana_

I stared at the letter, and then ripped it up, throwing it in the fire. The messenger touched my arm. "Does Her Grace have a message?"

"Tell Lady Ermliana," I hissed, "That she could walk out and join the Queen for all I care, but I would never stop being her friend. Tell her that she is a bloody stupid idiot for thinking anything else."

The messenger cracked a smile and left, bowing as he did so.

Alaerec walked in as soon as the messenger left, to see me standing in the middle of the room, shaking with fury. "What's the matter?" he asked slowly.

"Ermliana," I whispered, "asked, for my safety, not to be my friend." Tears were beginning to, unbidden, leak from my eyes.

Alaerec very slowly wrapped his arms around me. I cried into his shoulder. "I--I'm just—just so _tired_ of it all! Why couldn't I be normal? I keep feeling I'm going to be something—something in the future, and I _don't want to do it!_"

Alaerec patted my hair gently. I cried, seemingly, for no reason.

I cried for I don't know how long, but eventually the flow of tears stopped. Alaerec's hand was still in my hair, and his other arm was still firmly around my waist. I went a flaming, brilliant red and extracted myself from the embrace.

Alaerec flushed (he didn't blush, but his cheeks colored just slightly) as well.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking at the damp patch on his shoulder.

He patted my arm softly. "It's all right," he said. His eyes narrowed in amusement as he said, "I'll just go change."

I shot a glare at his retreating form as he left. He was _laughing _at me!

Of course, it wasn't like it never happened.

I sat on a cushion near the fireplace and buried my face in my hands. What was happening to me?

--------

The next time I saw Ermliana, at a party, she hugged me long and hard. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I was a little distraught at the time."

I snorted with laughter. "A little."

Ermliana grinned at me, and sat down. "On a happier note—"she called Alaerec over—"I have an idea to get rid of Marscopa."

Alaerec raised an eyebrow; I settled for an incredulous "Oh?"

"Oh," Ermliana said, grinning. "Here's what I think. I approach Marscopa innocently, and ask her to make an Impervious Cloak I can buy for you as a Midwinter present. Not only is that light magic, she'll want to curse it as well. So the Council of Mages will notice, and they're watching her every move, and they'll check the cloak, and it'll be cursed, and ta-da! She's stripped of her magic and you're free to kis—"

I slammed a hand over her mouth, blushing. I didn't want to know what she was going to say. Her eyes smirked at me.

Ermliana had done a lot of reading on soul-stealing. She had discovered that one under a binding spell couldn't kiss anyone because it was a sharing of souls. She was convinced that I was—well, it was _not_ true.

"It's a good idea," I told her as I removed her hand.

She smiled. "I knew you would see it my way, Lessie dearest," she told me, smirking.

Alaerec raised an eyebrow at both of us, and promptly asked me to dance.


	10. Interlude: Books and Cloaks

A/N: Here's the second, very short part of my double update!

Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful world of Sherwood Smith. I do own Marscopa Likshen Merindar, Ermiliana Argaliar (although I don't own her last name), Lestran Argaliar,Liselia Khialem, Jhussav of Savona, Norilse the maid, Derec Toarnevdar the third, baron of Orbanith, Dered Toarnevdar the fourth, Mashi Chamadis, King Lourden Merindar, Shandra Argaliar, Inclenius Debegri, Yolandis Astiar, Countess of Tlanth, I own Timerius Astiar's first name, but not the character, SS never states his name, Lorni Chamadis, Inina tha maid, Nori the maid, Lady Morish of Chamadis, and a few various messengers. I have oh so many OCs here...I don't own Alaerec, Elestra, Gladran, Arthal, and the character that I gave the name Timerius.

**Interlude: A Book and a Cloak**

Ermliana approached Marscopa at Lady Morish of Chamadis' Flower Day Party.

"Your majesty?"

The Queen turned, her bright eyes lighting up as she saw Ermliana. "Yes?"

Ermliana held up a book. It had been one she had read six times, and it was perfectly innocent, only mentioning that Marscopa was a mage and nothing more. "Well, I was reading this book because Lestran—my brother—wanted me to, and here it says you're a mage."

Marscopa's eyebrows rose and her look grew cool, and she took the book from Ermliana's hand, flipping through it. "And?"

Ermliana managed to look a little innocent. "And, Midwinter is coming up, and I need to get a gift for Elestra, my best friend. I was wondering if—if you could make me an Impervious Cloak. I—I would pay you handsomely, and I would provide the cloak."

Marscopa's eyes became bright again, and she gave Ermliana a grin and said, "I would love to. When will you send me the cloak?"

"I'll send the cloak to you tomorrow," Ermliana promised. "I'll pay you when I get it back."

Marscopa extended a hand, and Ermliana, just barely hiding disgust, shook it. "Tomorrow, then," the Queen said gaily, and was suddenly gone in a swirl of bright, full skirts.

It wasn't until she was gone that Ermliana realized she still had the book.

----

Ermliana had borrowed a cloak from Elestra, one that fit her. She, Elestra, and Alaerec sat in Ermliana's sitting room, Elestra pale and nervously twisting her hands in her skirt, Alaerec watching her with that assessing look he had, only it was mixed with worry (Ha! Those two were _so_ perfect for each other!), and Ermliana examining the cloak in her hands.

There was silence for a long time. Ermliana finally looked up from the cloak and said, "Well? Shall I call a messenger?"

Elestra nodded. "Go ahead."

Ermliana pulled a bell cord, and her maid, Inina, appeared. "Yes, my lady?"

Ermliana pinned the note to the cloak, and said, "I need a messenger to deliver this to the Queen. She's making an Impervious Cloak for me."

Inina curtseyed and left. Within minutes a messenger appeared. Ermliana stood. "I need this taken to Her Majesty the Queen. The note is for her as well. Please be fast." She pressed a coin into his palm and he bowed and left.

Elestra looked up at her, good humor alighting on her pale features. "Are you sure your mother would like you bribing the messengers?" she teased.

Ermliana plopped on the cushion next to Elestra. "Ah, she really doesn't care, because she does it herself," she said. Alaerec snorted and Elestra laughed. Lady Jina Argaliar was the most straight-laced lady in Court. Bribing the messengers was out of the question.

Ermliana smirked. Heck, touching the messengers was out of the question for her mother. Her mother was the snobbiest woman she knew. Ermliana twisted a dark curl in her hand, her brown eyes thoughtful.

_This better work.

* * *

Well, well, well. There ya go. _

Reviews:

**rubic-cube:** EEEEEE!!! I loved your review!! It was soooo nice! (Sorry, I'm a little hyper.) Anyway, here's Ermliana's plan to destroy Marscopa, and as for Alaerec's falling in love (Elestra, too)..._definitely_ next chapter. I have it planned out...I just can't write the damn thing, if you'll 'scuse my Portuguese.

**Rowenhood: **Thank you! I'm glad ya like it!

**FelSong: **Did you have a good time in China? That was where you were, right (I thought I read it in Pirate Princess)? I'm glad you thought it was unexpected. _I_ sure did...dear goodness, when Marscopa told me that was what she was going to do, and Thalia, my muse of comedy (she's Marscopa's patron muse, I NEVER would've thought that up...) told me to go along with it, I did...sometimes I really love being controlled my my characters...

**Wake-Robin:** Here's your answer! Thank you!!

Right. And here are all your cyber-cookies...::gives cyber-cookies::

Anyway, I'll try to get some inspiration for the next chapter...but I have a couple parts written, here's a preview for you all...

_Ermliana turned towards me, her face pale. "I knew it wouldn't work."_

_"What?" I said, not comprehending. Her eyes were bloodshot and suddenly she looked so _old,_ so tired and haggardand ill and so not Ermliana that I wanted to knock her out right there in the hall outside the Throne Room and mae her sleep until she was herself again. And then it dawned on me..._

_It hadn't worked._

"What?"_ I said again, this time horrified._

_Ermliana shook her head, tears beginning to leak out of her eyes, a tiny smile on her face. She was delirious, I decided. _

_"I knew it wouldn't work...and it did, oh Lessie, it _did!

Hmmm...I _wonder _what _that _is all about...hmmm. Note the heavy sarcasm.

nebulia


	11. Sudden Changes

A/N: Okey-doke. I'm really tired, so this is gonna be short as possible.

Well, my 'puter (hereby known as Snookums) broke down-the system was OK but Snookums himself wasn't. So the computer man put in a new keyboard and did a little 'puter magic and my 'puter was fixed. However, it took about two weeks. On top of the major writer's and the fact that this chappie is my longest yet-5.5 pages on MS Word-cheer for Neb-it's taken a while. I'd hoped this chappie could be up much sooner...sorry for the wait.

Next chapter: hehehe...fun.

As to review responses...thanks to FelSong, Wake-Robin, Abby (I loved your review! I was really depressed when I got it and it cheered me up majorly!), Sheyana, and ; (Your review made me feel special...it was nice, too. Thanks!) for reviewing. And that's all the resposes you'll get-I'm way too tired.

Hello. You have reached the Disclaimer for nebulia. At the tone, please insert your favorite legal disclaimer and I or one of my alter-egos or many minions will instantaneously approve it. Thank you, and have a nice day. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! (Insert disclaimer here)

**Sudden Changes**

We waited. For weeks. Three weeks after Ermliana sent the Cloak to Marscopa, the Queen sent it back. Ermliana (grudgingly) paid for it.

The cloak set in Ermliana's sitting room, tucked in a corner. No one dared touch it, for what it may be.

And we waited.

It was a week later when, on my way to the library, I heard a commotion. And then I ran into Ermliana. She pushed passed me, and then stopped. "Lessie!"

I grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around. She looked as though she was going to fall over. "What is it?"

I noticed her face was pale as she said, "I knew it wouldn't work."

"What?" I said, not comprehending. Her eyes were bloodshot and suddenly she looked so old, so tired and haggard and ill and so not Ermliana that I wanted to knock her out right there in the hall outside the Throne Room and make her sleep until she was herself again. And then it dawned on me...

It hadn't worked.

"_What?"_ I said again, this time horrified.

Ermliana shook her head, tears beginning to leak out of her eyes, a tiny smile on her face. She was delirious, I decided.

"I knew it wouldn't work...and it did, oh Lessie, it _did!"_

She pulled me into the Throne Room. The King sat on the Goldenwood throne, his eyes wide. A group of men and women in white cloaks stood around Marscopa, who was hardly visible underneath a shimmering barrier.

One man demanded, "Who did you make the Impervious Cloak for?"

Marscopa said something they couldn't hear, and then the man turned. "Ermliana Argaliar. Fetch the Impervious Cloak for me."

Ermliana nodded and left. "And who are you?" the man asked me.

I stepped forward. "I am Elestra, Duchess of Savona. Marscopa over there killed my mother and bound—" I stopped suddenly, surprised. It didn't hurt to talk.

"Den," a woman next to him said. "She's been bound like the girl over there."

Arthal stood over by the door to the antechamber, held by another woman in a white cloak.

The man named Den scrutinized me and said, "Burn it, Leda, she is." He walked up to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "We need you to stand over there, your grace."

"Why can I talk?" I asked him.

"It's the barrier," he stated, and then added, "How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"And who and how old is the girl over there? The only thing she's done the entire time we've been here is mutter curses at Lady Marscopa and smile."

I glanced over at Arthal. She appeared to be muttering under her breath as she smiled menacingly. I said slowly, fighting back a laugh, "She's Princess Arthal Merindar, heir to the lands of Merindar. She's seven. Nearly eight," I clarified.

Den smiled at me. "I am Den Shagoli, formerly a citizen of Norsunder. I am the leader of the Council of Mages."

"Formerly?" I asked.

"When you are inducted into the Council, you renounce your citizenship."

I smiled. "Oh, like the Fellowship of the Tower."

He looked pleasantly surprised that I knew of them. "Yes," he said. "Much like them."

He gestured to the rest of the cloaked people. "These are my fellow Council members." He introduced them to me, and then he pointed over the woman near Arthal. "She is a member as well, who specializes in auras, especially those of children. Her name is Linnea Monetta, and I'm going to need you to go over there and introduce yourself to her."

"Why?" I asked, curious.

"When you are under a binding spell, your aura apparently becomes quite bungled. I don't know, since I never trained in sensing auras, but she'll sort you out." He rejoined the circle around Marscopa.

I nodded and walked over to her as Ermliana walked in, holding the cloak in her skirt. The woman next to Den, Leda Nashilo, left the circle.

"Is this the Cloak?" she asked. Ermliana nodded, and Leda reached out to take it.

As her fingers neared Ermliana's skirt, she cried out and pulled back.

Den and another mage rushed forward. "Life!" Leda cried, examining her hand, which had a heavy, thick welt on it, "it's definitely cursed."

The mage who had come over with Den pulled some thick gloves out of his belt and put them on, picking up the cloak. "I need the Dark magic specialists over here!" he called, and three people left the circle. Leda, wrapping her hand, joined them. The mage set the cloak on the floor, and the five mages began to examine the cloak.

I walked over to Linnea, who smiled warmly at me.

"I'm Linnea Monetta," she said. Her voice was quiet and soothing, and all tension in me seemed to slowly relax. "Who are you? And who is this little munchkin?"

I snorted at the word 'munchkin.' "I'm Elestra, Duchess of Savona. This is Princess Arthal Merindar, heir to the Merindar lands."

Arthal looked up at me, only just realizing I was there. She grinned, her blue eyes colder than I'd ever seen them. "Lady Elestra, did you have anything to do with this?"

I shook my head. "'Twas all Ermliana's doing," I responded. "I merely agreed with the idea."

Linnea called over a scribe. "I want you to, in detail, explain everything that has happened to you. You first—" she pointed at me—"and then you, Your Highness, and then your friend Ermliana, and whoever else was involved or knew anything at all."

"Nenthar Debegri," I said. "He was an accomplice—"

Suddenly we heard anything shouts from the hall.

"_I'm telling you," _a boy yelled loudly, "_I didn't do anything! She's my aunt! She's the Queen! That's the only reason I know her!"_

"Um, never mind," I said, smiling faintly. "That's him."

Linnea smiled at me and Arthal. "I need to check you over," she said soothingly. "If you'll just sit down for me…" I realized there were two chairs over by the wall. We sat.

Linnea placed a hand on both of our shoulders, and said, "That's it. Breathe normally or as if you were asleep or resting. Just relax…"

* * *

Several hours later, when I stood up from the chair, I felt lighter than I had in, well, a long time. Actually, I felt— 

Arthal cut into my thoughts a little confusedly. "Is it just me, or do you feel like you're floating, too?"

"Yeah, I think it's…I don't know."

She smirked coolly. "Fancy that. Elestra doesn't know something! _Amazing_."

I glared at her. Things were back to normal. Well, sort of.

* * *

The trial was in a small city near Sartor where the Council's headquarters and prisons were. It stood alone, not part of any country. We all traveled there in the most comfort we could have while traveling; my father, brother, Ermliana, Alaerec, the King, Galdran, Arthal, Alaerec's mother, who was the King's sister and thus spent a lot of time with Marscopa, and many other witnesses. 

I had never been to any sort of trial before; I was not, and had no wish to be, involved in the legal system. However, Marscopa's case was supposedly different since there was already evidence pointing to her. The Cloak was indeed cursed, to make me burn every time I put it on but not realize that until other moments. Or something like that. Leda, one of the mages, had tried to explain it to me. I didn't get it.

However, witnesses would testify as to Debegri's involvement and as to the other things Marscopa may have done, such as murdering my mother and binding Arthal and me.

Oh, we were still bound, though. Marscopa was still alive and full of magic; she was just guarded by mages and gagged at all times.

Arthal mumbled things about being not only a witness, but an exhibit as well, but I really didn't care. I just wanted to—

_Elestra, you did _not _just think that._

In truth, I was confused. Alaerec had been staring at me worriedly since the day Marscopa was arrested, and Ermliana's eyes had been laughing for the same amount of time.

Exhaustion didn't suit her, I decided as we sat in the carriage and she slept between Alaerec and me.

We presented a united front, the three of us. Alaerec, who would be King if Galdran and Arthal died or something, Ermliana, who was the one who caught Marscopa in the first place, and me, the victim.

Of course, out of all of us, I had both the least and the most power. When word had gotten out that Marscopa was an evil sorceress, and that Arthal and I were bound, I suddenly became the 'weak one.' I was weak enough to let Marscopa bind me.

But then, I had the most power in the law court—I had seen more than anyone else, and this made me the key witness.

Or so they told me. One thing I knew, though: I was never, ever going to do _anything_ with the law or politics _ever_ again.

Or so I had hoped.

* * *

The trial was actually interesting; there was evidence and witnesses that I didn't know existed, and there was enough incriminating stuff to sentence Marscopa for ten lifetime's worth of jail time. 

Debegri was another case. The only witnesses who _knew_ he was guilty were Arthal and me, and then there were several witnesses as to his character, but other than that, Marscopa had covered her paths well. Very little was connected to him.

On top of that, I was young, as was Arthal, but she also had a bias. Everyone testified that Marscopa like Debegri better than Arthal, even Marscopa herself. Her testimony on Debegri's involvement was disregarded.

In short, Debegri was found innocent, although he was fined pretty heavily for knowing what Marscopa had planned and doing nothing about it.

I 'visited' him in jail the day he was found innocent. Debegri was going to be kept in jail until he paid his fine. I hoped he'd never pay it.

Either way, I was virtually summoned to the prison to speak with Debegri—alone. Alaerec didn't like it at all, and Ermliana was suspicious, but I assured them I'd be all right—after all, there were going to be bars separating him and me.

Or so I thought. Debegri wasn't in a jail cell anymore; rather, he was in a holding cell—a two-room chamber, carpeted, with decently cushioned furniture, though sparse, and whitewashed walls.

"Oh, good, Elestra," he said cruelly as I stepped into the antechamber of his cell. "You _did_ come. I was afraid you would be cowardly."

"It's _your grace_," I hissed though my teeth, "not Elestra."

He snorted. "I'll call you what I want to, Elestra."

"What do you want?" I snapped, angry that I was losing my temper.

"I figured I would gloat," Debegri said, eyes full of some sort of venal hunger. "After all you were 'disregarded as a witness due to your young age.'"

"Were you even listening?" I retorted. "That was Arthal. I was fully regarded as a witness."

He waved his hand in a just barely decent attempt at courtly foppishness. _Alaerec has that motion down pat,_ I thought before I could stop myself. Debegri couldn't manage the move. "Whatever. The point is, Elestra, it's just you and me in here, and _you _thought I would be in a jail cell."

He suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrists, faster than I thought he could move. He swung me around, so he was in between me and the door. "Now, Elestra," he said softly, "You thought I was a bad swordsman, didn't you?"

I said nothing. Fear had paralyzed me.

He released my wrists with one hand, and drew on of the swords at his waist and placed it in my hand, wrapping my fingers around it. Then he drew the other sword, and said, "Shall we duel?"

He let go and pushed me against the wall. I lifted my sword. It was real—not a practice sword.

Debegri attacked suddenly, and I just barely got my sword up in time to parry the blow.

He was nearly as good as Alaerec; perhaps he was a little better than Ermliana. I was no match for him.

I don't know why he faked being a bad swordsman, but it didn't matter at the moment, because I felt like my arms were going to fall off and I was just barely blocking each blow.

He suddenly thrust and I jumped to one side, but not fast enough; the sword grazed my arm, ripping open my chiffon sleeve and cutting into my skin.

I cried out and dropped my sword. The cut wasn't deep, nor was it long, but burn it, it _hurt_.

Debegri set his sword down as well, grinning menacingly. "Cocky, were you?" he asked mockingly.

I glared at him, losing a bit of my fear. He was still the same venal bastard. "No, actually. But it was nice talking to you. I'd best be going."

I stood, feeling blood drip down my arm. _Damn_, I thought, _this was my favorite dress._

I started to leave when Debegri grabbed my wrists again. "You're not going anywhere," he hissed, and then he kissed me.

It was one of the worst moments of my life. Even now, fifty years later, I can remember exactly how I felt.

And it _hurt_. He dug his fingernails into the skin of my wrist, and his teeth bit down on my lip so hard they drew blood.

I struggled violently, and, in a poorly aimed attempt at a kick to his shin, accidentally kneed him violently in a place where men should not be kneed.

Even if it was a mistake, it was an effective one.

He pulled away and I turned and ran out of the room, startling the sleeping guard as I rushed down the hall as fast as I could (which was, if I do say so myself, pretty fast.).

I exited the prison compound at top speed, ran into Alaerec who was walking to the prison to check on me, and suddenly I was in my room with the door locked and bolted, and then I was curled under the covers of my bed, sobbing for no reason I could possibly discern.

And I wished so badly that there could just be _someone_ there—someone who would hold me tightly and wipe my tears away.

And, for some reason, when I thought of that one special person, I thought of Alaerec.

* * *

OK, a little bit af angst-fluff at the end, there...happy? 

Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite, whatever, I'm going to bed.

Signing off,  
neb


	12. Big Events

A/N: Here it is! **The Chapter** is here! Refer to AN at end of chapter, but since you've all been begging for it (just guess…) and I finally managed to get the last clip in there, which I've wanted in here for _ages_…ta-da!

* * *

**Big Events**

subtitled: _Shalens, _parties, and kisses

* * *

I didn't tell anyone about the visit with Debegri—not Jhussav, not Ermliana, not even Alaerec. I even considered telling Arthal, but she, too, was summoned to Debegri's cell, and when she returned, she burst into my sitting room and flung herself into my arms, weeping.

I didn't ask her what happened—it had to be something awful.

But we comforted each other, and no one would ever have to know.

The case was finished up around three days after my visit with Debegri, and at that point, we were gathered to witness Marscopa's magic removal and destruction.

This would totally remove Marscopa of ever attempting a magic trick, again. She wouldn't be able to say the words or make the proper hand movements—not even for play illusions which I had read about.

The magic removal and destruction ceremony, called _Shalen_, required all of the mages on the council of mages, save for one—the strongest magician—and was incredibly draining.

Den was the strongest mage, being the leader of the Council at the moment, and, until his death, when another mage would take his place. We had become good friends with the young man—he was only fifteen or twenty years older than me, and he was well-liked by all.

Den led the _Shalen_, but was not part of it. Each mage had a different bit to read, while Marscopa was imprisoned in the shimmering barrier she had been in nearly two months before. All had to put a drop of blood into a bowl of pure ekirth and then each had separate spells to recite, which had to be perfectly coordinated. Arthal and I were asked to watch, being bound as we were, and all the others were invited to watch. It was supposedly very beautiful.

The day arrived, and we entered the _Shalen_ room of the main council building—the ritual had to be so strictly followed, even in the way the room was cleaned and set up, that it had its own room.

It was of pure black marble, with soft Glowglobes in niches in the wall to provide light. Each Glowglobe shifted and changed colors smoothly and gently, giving the room a slightly darkened feel. A circle of ekirth, was embedded in the floor, and, around three hands behind it was a railing also of pure ekirth.

When my father stepped into the room, he let out a soft curse and muttered about the expense.

Jhussav nudged me, and we grinned at each other. It was the first time my father had expressed some sort of emotion other than sadness or disappointment since my mother's death, nearly half a year ago.

_Half a year ago_.

It had gone by so fast—those five or six months were the most painful of my life, both physically and mentally. Each day had seemed to crawl by as slowly as possible, yet looking back on it, it had gone by in a flash.

I smoothed my black skirt. I had stopped wearing my mourning clothes in the Council's city when I didn't see my father everyday; I didn't think my mother would approve. She was always so vibrant, so happy—why would she want us to mourn for her forever?

I still missed my mother desperately, and always would, but I would remember her life with as much happiness as I could possibly draw upon.

Which, actually, wasn't much. Most of my life, I had gone by in thinking that my parents thought it was my fault my mother was ill for most of my early childhood. Afterwards, our relationship was slightly strained until I was around thirteen, and we didn't grow close until a few months before her death.

I would always regret not getting to know her sooner; for I had discovered that I loved my mother, almost more than anyone else in the world, and that I always would. I had always observed her from afar—the servant's passages or from under the table at balls; hiding in the foliage at picnics—and I think I always admired her, and hated her a little; I was never as graceful as she.

Until after her death. I had grown nearly a hand in the five months she had been—dead, I had decided dead was the only word for it—and had begun to actually develop a bit of grace.

Alaerec's teaching me how to dance _was_ a bit helpful, and so was the fact that I now had to be composed—I was a Duchess after all—but mostly, I think it was the grief. I had less energy and want to be happy and free and energetic, and, thus, clumsy, so I wasn't.

I was still awful at swordfighting, though.

Jhussav's nudging me into Alaerec and out of the doorway brought me out of my reverie.

The mages were entering, with a floating, though awake, Marscopa, in, as usual, the barrier.

Den brought up the rear, and took his seat in a bluewood chair in the front of the room. He waved his hand and the chair began to float well above Alaerec's head, where he could see all of the goings-on.

"Are you ready, Council?" he called down.

The rest of the mages nodded in one smooth motion.

"Then let the _Shalen_ begin." He opened the book and began to read.

"_By the power of the blood,_

_By the power of the mage,_

_Let the magic removal and destruction of Marscopa Likshen Merindar begin!"_

Leda, the lead Dark magic mage (also Den's—er, romantic interest), was to be the one to hold the barrier. She stepped forward to the ekirth bowl, floating in midair by its own power, and carefully pricked her finger.

"_I, Leda Nashilo, seal this imprisonment with my blood. _

_I will hold the barrier of white magic with all my might, my strength, and my dignity. _

_I will remain strong in the face of fire and death._

Nasreil holdemlon selios, infedil lindio shamalyn. .

_So sealed."_

And so they went, with each mage doing something else. And then they spoke the spells.

Leda whispered something over and over again, an ostenato beat under the melodies, harmonies, and countermelodies of the others speaking and gesturing.

Colored light began to flow and swirl from the Glowglobes, making me gasp with delight.

Marscopa slumped in the barrier, and the voices rose to a shouting climax.

There was a sudden boom as Marscopa snapped up, arms and legs out and head back. The shimmering light pink barrier turned white, and then it exploded, sending light everywhere in a disc of brilliant white light.

Iridescent things, just small enough to be seen, rained down on us.

Marscopa fell slowly to the ground, unconscious. . Den lowered his chair, rushed out of it, and caught the fainting Leda in his arms. We all (except Jhussav, who was, as he later said, 'disgusted but intrigued') looked away politely.

The mages then took several days to recuperate, and I was free! The first two days, I said everything bad about Marscopa I could—Alaerec and Ermliana became quite bored. It took me several months to get out of the habit of saying something bad about Marscopa every day.

* * *

It wasn't long after the _Shalen_ that we returned home. Liselia and Lestran, Ermliana's sister-in-law and brother, threw a welcoming-home party for us.

It was at the Argaliar house, with delicious food and almost the entire Court in attendance.

I had a new dress that was dark red and cream, and brought out my eyes. Ermliana's pale blue dress contrasted with her pale skin and dark hair, and Alaerec looked as fashionable as ever—in a velvet burgundy tunic and cream shirt and breeches. My father wore black, as usual. Jhussav was in bright green that made me wince every time I looked at him, but then he'd never gone for style.

(I recall Ermliana making a comment about how Alaerec and I matched. I had flushed a brilliant pink and Alaerec had raised an eyebrow—a sure sign that he was nearly embarrassed.)

It was a very nice party. I danced a bit, with a few people whom I'd never met, flirted a bit, talked with Ermliana a bit, and drank three glasses of punch.

I'd drank the Court punch before, and I really wasn't all that tipsy, just a bit flushed and hot from dancing. So I decided to join Alaerec, who was sitting on a sofa a little ways out of the crowd, in between the fireplace and the door to the balcony.

He smiled faintly when he saw me, and patted the seat next to him. I took it, settling my skirts about me, and leaned slightly against his arm, which was draped over the back of the chair. "So, enjoying the party?"

Alaerec grimaced. "It's a nice party—Liselia and Lestran are excellent hosts. I just don't want to be here all that much. Usually I don't mind parties; it's nice to get out of politics and talk horses with Anamoras and Khialem—I mean, Chamadis over there." He gestured to a tall, thin man leaning against a wall and the slightly shorter newly-married woman chatting easily. "But I just didn't want to be here tonight. It's been kind of exhausting—all of it."

I agreed—it was possibly the nicest party I'd been to in my time as Duchess of Savona, but it _had_ been exhausting. We talked for a bit more, and then sat in a peaceable silence, observing the crowd.

Suddenly Alaerec said, "Elestra, I—" and then broke off suddenly.

I turned towards him. "Wha—"

Perhaps Alaerec had had too many glasses of punch. Or maybe he was just happy. Or maybe—

I didn't want to think about _that_ possibility.

But no matter what, he slid an arm around my waist and pressed his lips to mine.

It lasted just a few moments, but when he pulled away he was as red as my dress, and I probably was too.

I stood, brushed invisible dust off of my skirt (a bad habit, but I just couldn't help it), and opened my mouth to say something.

Nothing came out. I sighed and tried to think of something to say.

Nothing.

I turned and walked away, flushing like I never had before.

But not before I caught Ermliana leaning against a wall, grinning at me like an idiot.

_Damn. _

I was in for the grilling of my life.

I didn't try to decipher why there were tears in my eyes. I merely hurried out of House Argaliar complaining illness to all I asked, and, once I was out of sight of the house, sprinted through the gardens until I collapsed in my chambers, confused, exhausted, dazed, and slightly stunned.

Because—well, damn, I'd _liked _it.

What was wrong with me?

* * *

Happy now? I am. Ireally like the end of this chappie—although I think the beginning's kinda crappy.

**Reviews:**

**Wake-Robin: **Here's the fluff you asked for…er, a long time ago! Enjoy!

**Thea: **Yay! Many languages! De nada…although that's neither German nor French, and I may have spelled it wrong…how 'bout this? You're welcome…plain English, although I much prefer Latin. Yeah, Elestra kissing Debegri was _not_ my idea…Debegri asked for it, and I couldn't refuse him when he denied me cookie dough until I wrote it in…yeah, I'm crazy; my charries talk to me.

**Sheyana:** Well, I would like to be in bed more—five hours a night is just not enough sleep, but it works, and here's the chappie, when I could be asleep….oh, what I do for my readers… No, actually, I really really wanted to post this and I really don't want to sleep—it's Thursday and I can go to bed as soon as I get home from school. I love you all, and so I will do anything to keep you happy. And my inner author happy, too… :smiles hopefully:

**FelSong:** I read your review, squealed with joy, and then went back and fixed all of Elestra's kick-ass/American/punk-girl language because your review made sense and most of those phrases (there were two or three, I think) didn't even need be there. Thank you so much for your review—it made me happy!

**Rubic-cube:** Glad you liked the chapter…here's the update!

**Abby: **Thank you! Once more, your review made me happy…you give good compliments! I'm happy you were happy because e I was happy because your review made me happy…er, did that make sense? Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter.

Thank you for the lovely reviews; they make me happy.

I have very little idea what will happen next; I probably won't update until after Easter (a.k.a. March 27)—before that is Spring Break and then my cousins are in town. But then, I might write the chapter on the twelve-hour drive to and from Colorado, so who knows?

Hope you enjoyed—I really enjoyed writing this chapter, even though the beginning sucks.

Signing off,

neb


	13. The Revolution Begins

A/N: Yes, I'm BAAACK! Didya miss me?  
And now, it's time for an excuse--I'm a very bad girl. I had four pages of this written, and then I got some bad grades. So Snookums (That's my 'puter's name) was taken from me. Here it is, nearly a month later, and I do't have Snookums back, but I have more time alone and thus more time that I can write in the kitchen, where Snookums is now located. And this is definitely the longest chappie I've ever written--the writing (excluding the A/N) is almost 6 pages long. It's also one of the most intense chapters--a _lot_ happens in six pages. A hell of a lot happens.

I'd also like to thank you for your glorious reviews:

**Autumn Faery: **Sorry for the short chapters--but they're getting slowly longer. Your praise made me _really_ happy. Thank you so much!

**Abby:**shakes hands: We have an accord then. I write, you review, and happiness all around:cheers:

**Philippa: **I'm glad I'm giving you ideas--thank you!

**Wake-Robin: **Well, that sums it up in a nutshell.

**Thea:** Of course there's more fluff in their future! _Much_ more fluff:rubs hands to gather and does the evil scientist laugh:

**FelSong: **Thanks for the critique--it made sense. And typically I am very lazy, but it's different when it comes to my writing. I have to be hard-core with it otherwise it loses control...yeah, I'm not too good at that...

**Sheyana:**Well, it's somewhat long...but when Snookums got taken away we all kinda lost hope and my charries went comatose until opened my little MS Word doc 'less12' (decoding--Elestra's story ch.12) and then they came back to life. This is what came out.

Anywho, I hope you like chapter, despite the lack of fluffiness. And I'm sorry for the horribly long AN.

**The Revolution Begins**

Things were now slightly awkward between Alaerec and I; we were still together as often, and talked all the same, but we avoided certain topics—romance,romance gossip, parties, and a few others—and rarely met each other's eyes.

But we were still close, and Ermliana was doing her best to patch up whatever hole Alaerec and I had rent in our friendship.

But no one was patching up the hole that Marscopa's arrest and consequent imprisonment made. The King had nearly lost his mind—maybe he _had_ loved her, or maybe he was just stunned.

Either way, he had turned into a cold-hearted bastard and just about everyone hated him.

My father said things had always been like this under Merindar reign, and that he was "damn tired of it all." I was glad he was beginning to get his old personality back.

And then I got ill, and I really didn't care how heartbroken my father was or what I felt for Alaerec or if Jhussav was sleeping with the chamber maid.

It was one of _those _illnesses; I spent the first two days over my chamber pot, sick, and I had a cough that felt like my throat was on fire. I was sick for a full month after that, with a cough, fever, and occasional delusions.

I distinctly remember several of them—but Jhussav and Ermliana have both denied it, so they _must _have been delusions or something. At one point, Ermliana, Alaerec, and Jhussav sat around my bed, Ermliana stroking my forehead, and Jhussav and Alaerec holding my hands. Jhussav was saying, "The clowns have taken my head again."

Ermliana nodded firmly. "Oh, those nasty clowns. How awful." She held up a hand, and smiled at the huge, gaudy ring adorning her middle finger. "Such a lovely ring, Alec," she said, smiling coyly at him. "What a fine convenience this is, that I can marry you."

I gasped, or tried to. Instead I dissolved in a fit of violent coughing. When I recovered, Alaerec said, "But you know I don't _love _you, right?"

Ermliana smiled. "Of course you don't." Her eyes flicked to me and then up. "I know."

Jhussav laughed, and it was all very odd.

Another one I had was much the same, only this time _I _was getting married, and Ermliana had books and books of wedding plans. When I asked her why, she said, "But Lessie, we've been planning it for _ages_!"

I was too sick to remember that neither of us were even of age yet, but it was still strange.

And then I had funny delusions, where Alaerec danced on the ceiling or Jhussav was a crab and spoke in strange accent.

And then I was merely feverish and coughing, finally, and my friends spoke to me normally. I received visits from Timerius, Yolandis, and even Arthal and Galdran, although that one was far from pleasant.

Of all of my friends, I think Alaerec sat with me the most, though. He brought me books, plenty of them, my lap harp, and even embroidery, which I did when my vision was too blurred to read. And he talked politics with me.

I liked that; it kept me in touch and he was talking to me as an equal, which was the first time he'd ever done that.

Even in the past, Alaerec had always treated Ermliana and me with the slightest amount of arrogance typical of those older than one. It was never terribly noticeable or annoying; but it was there.

It was understandable, though; I mean, Alaerec _was_ five years older than us and had more life knowledge, but there were times when I'd wanted him to speak with me as he would friends that were his age, and suddenly, here he was.

He informed me of what was happening in Petitioner's Court, all the servant's gossip, and then the gossip among the courtiers. The newest rumor was that Marscopa and Debegri had been romantically attached, which made me shudder. Alaerec, devoid of his Court mask (for once), had said it through laughter—we, and the servants, knew that she had actually been faithful—after all, she had wedded him with fidelity rings—which bound a person to their spouse.

But he delivered more sober information a day after that. "Lourden's mad," he stated as he walked in my room, still in Court dress.

"Insane-mad or angry-mad?" I asked.

"Both," he responded, "But more the former, I think."

"What's wrong?"

Ermliana entered suddenly. "I was in the kitchens and Lourden's killed the head cook 'cause she was a spy!"

"_What?" _Alaerec asked, standing.

Ermliana slowed, sitting down. "Well, not a spy, but she was a contact for the Anamoras family; they don't come to Court much. Lourden found out, I guess, and he decided that their lack of Court visits and a contact in the kitchens mean that they were planning on killing him—poison or something, I suppose. So he marched down and she died a criminal's death at first-green bell today." She rolled her eyes angrily. "The Anamorases don't come to Court 'cause they've got five children under the age of six and another on the way, and imagine what _that_ would be like." Then, suddenly, she burst into tears. "I _liked _the cook," she wailed. "She was so nice, giving me food whenever I asked, and I talked to her about…things!"

Alaerec and I exchanged glances. Something else had Ermliana worked up. "What else is there?" Alaerec said gently.

Ermliana shook her head. "Heard some of the people in Court today talking—it's nothing."

Alaerec went white. "No, it's not."

"What?" I asked, horrified.

Alaerec sat down. "Well, Court started off as normal, I suppose, with Lourden condemning a couple criminals and introducing Galdran to them—he's required to come now, so he can 'learn.' Well, then he moved on to the petitions, and there was one from the woodworker's guild and a little fief up north and a couple of others.

"But then Debegri stepped forward, and made a personal request."

"A _what?" _I asked, confused.

"There hasn't been one in years, so it's kind of been forgotten. They were designed when courtiers wanted to challenge others for their land or wanted a rise in station or wanted to change an arranged marriage or get a loan; little things like that. But they're never used anymore; no one's really wanted them.

"Anyway, Debegri stepped forward, and used the proper words and everything, and then when Lourden said, 'Please state your request,' Debegri said, 'I request that the Lady Arthal be killed so that I may become Marquis of Merindar.'"

I let out a gasp. "He wouldn't—"

Alaerec shook his head, becoming almost visibly angry. "The entire Court, I think, let out a gasp, and Arthal had to be physically restrained by her nurse, she was so angry.

"But Lourden didn't even flinch. He asked what the grounds for the request were, and Debegri said some load of _shit_ about it being his birthright, since it was always the Debegris who held the position, and now a Merindar was going to do it, and he couldn't possibly stand for it, and Lourden nodded, and said 'Very well, I'll do it' and then they arrested Arthal right there." Alaerec was visibly shaking now, he was so angry. "I don't like the girl, but—Burn it! She doesn't deserve to die, and especially not by her father!"

"Is that all?" I asked. Alaerec shook his head. "It's not done yet.

"Your father protested—she's little, she is the princess, his grounds had no claims since the Debegris were just a branch of the Merindars anyway, and he even pulled the ancient she's just a girl and you can't kill girls string, but Lourden refused, and your father lost it, saying how he wasn't going to stand for it—not for any child, and he would protest for any child in the palace, even the annoying little brat of a girl, because they didn't deserve to be tortured so by a crazy king. So he was—he was arrested, too. And they'll both die a criminal's death in three days."

Suddenly, I was crying, and Jhussav was walking in crying, "Alec! Alec! Is it true—" and then Ermliana's arm was around my shoulder and Alaerec's slim fingers were stroking my hair and Jhussav was crying too, and then I woke up, but it wasn't a nightmare. It was still true. It was still real.

* * *

Ermliana stayed with me and Jhussav, for fear we would try to take matters into out own hands. "I would, too, but I don't have any influence, so I couldn't do anything, but if Lourden died, Alaerec would be regent, so he might be able to convince him." 

I sat up then, angry. "I'm a Countess! Do I have influence?"

"Do you think Lourden will be swayed by the girl who got his wife arrested?"

I lay back down, contrite. "Oh."

Alaerec came back twice disheartened, unable to sway the King. "He won't change his mind—he won't let Arthal off, I don't know why."

"Arthal looks like Marscopa," I said softly. "She reminds him of her."

"But Galdran looks like Marscopa, too," Ermliana argued.

"Galdran will be King," I refuted. "And if Galdran isn't Debegri would be, and no one trusts Debegri, not even Lourden. And Lourden _loves_ Galdran. Like a son. Anyway, Galdran looks less like Marscopa than Arthal does. He just has Marscopa's eyes."

Alaerec shook his head. "He won't let Arthal off because he's crazy. And he won't let your father off because he says he spoke treason. Damn him to Norsunder! When the king's crazy, all the rules are different. Everyone knows that."

Alaerec was visibly worked up as he spoke. Jhussav said sharply, "Alec, relax."

Ermliana set a hand very gently on his arm. "Calm, down Alaerec."

I merely gave him a reproving look from my bed.

Alaerec gave a frustrated growl and threw on his Court coat. "I'm going to go try to convince him again."

He left. Jhussav, Ermliana, and I exchanged glances. Alaerec had never been so passionate about anything, and we were all worried.

At that point, a healer bustled in, carrying tea and other healer things. She thrust the listerblossom tea into my hands and checked my pulse and temperature. "You're healing. That's good."

"When can I get out of bed?" I asked her hopefully, and took a sip of tea.

"Wait three days, at the most. You're temperature's almost back to normal, but it's still high, and you still have a bad cough, so let's wait a bit to make sure you don't relapse. I'm worried about this—it's taking a long time to heal."

Oh, _damn._

Ermliana visibly started; we exchanged glances behind the healer's back.

I remembered my mother; her illness from a year ago had been similar to mine.

What if my illness was the result of magic?

I turned back to the healer, took another sip of tea, and asked, "Is it possible that my illness might be the result of magic?"

The healer looked at me, and frowned. "It's possible," she said, "although unlikely. Unless you've been involved in magic recently."

Ermliana jumped in the conversation. "She was at the center of the tangle with Queen Marscopa. She'd been bound."

The healer relaxed slightly. "Well—then the illness is probably just a residue of the binding setting in. If a person is bound their body has to adjust to being unbound. The Princess has been rather ill lately, as well.

"This is good—your illness is nothing serious, just annoying. You'll probably be totally healthy again in two or three weeks, and you'll definitely be out of bed of soon."

I thanked the healer as she gathered her things and left.

Ermliana and I looked at each other.

What else could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Alaerec burst into the door two candle-changes later, looking half-exuberant, half hopeless. 

Ermliana had left to dine with her family, and Jhussav had gone down to get me (and him) dinner. I informed Alaerec of that fact the moment he walked in—it kept my mind off of other issues; namely, the fact that my father would die in two days.

(For, although I desperately wanted to know if he was off or not, I feared Alaerec's rejection more than anything in the world. My father and I were not close in the obvious sense of the word, but we had similar personalities—we were bookish, music- and fashion-loving, and had a secret flair for the dramatics. And I loved him—although we didn't appear close, we were, in our own special way. I didn't think I could stand his dying, especially not after Mama had died just a year ago. )

Alaerec nodded briefly at my explanation, and as he opened his mouth to speak, I said, "The healer came today—I'm just sick because of residue magic left over from being bound, and I'll be well soon."

"Oh, that's good," Alaerec told me wearily. "So, what do you think of this kind of weather?"

I was slightly confused at the sudden change of subject, but I said, "Well, I don't know what the temperature's been like lately, seeing as how I haven't been outside much, but I love watching the rain—"

And then I realized something—Alaerec was trying to avoid the subject just as much as I was.

And any hope I had vanished like the smile on a woman's face when her son, not seen by her in years, comes home to tell her that her husband is dead.

"So," I asked, "Did you convince him of anything?"

"Yes," Alaerec said, surprising me. "He finally came to his senses, and he's going to let Arthal live—it was like a brief bout of insanity. But he's still convinced your father spoke treason, and he's still going to execute him in two days. But I'm going to talk to him tomorrow." He met my eyes for the first time in the awkward conversation, and said, "I'm sorry, Lessie; oh, I'm so sorry."

I shook my head and sniffled. "'S'not your fault."

He shook his head. "No, maybe it's not—but it is, a little bit. There's a lot I could have done before Lourden lost it—I didn't know I had so much influence with him. And we've got to do something."

"We?" I asked.

Alaerec looked at me, dark eyes widening slightly. "Well, of course _we_! You don't think I'd expect to start a revolution by myself, do you?"

Saying that that statement was a shock was, well, an understatement. Had I been standing up, I would've fallen over, and I nearly fell out of bed as it was. I tried to say something, and burst into a fit of coughing instead.

When the coughs subsided, I looked at Alaerec, stunned. His eyes were narrowed in laughter at my clumsiness.

"You're not—" I sputtered, trying to stay as calm as he was, "You're not _serious_, are you?"

Any humor on his face died instantly. "I am," he told me. "And I need help. I'll be working from within—it's not, hopefully, going to be like the revolutions we read about in histories, with bloodshed and bodies. It might take years, but I'll drive the Renslaeus guards on him, or Galdran, if I have to. But there's going to be a change, Less. I'll make sure of that."

I sat there, totally blown away. If Alaerec was going to start a revolution, then I—well, I didn't know what I would do.

Oh, actually, I knew what I would do, but I wouldn't like it. I would sit on the sidelines, watching things wither get better or deteriorate, and watch Alaerec suffer from being stuck with all the researching he would have to do. I would watch him struggle to find allies, and send me pleading glances so well-hid by his Court mask that only I could see them, and I would feel guilty.

But this was a chance to make a difference. To _do_ something. To care about something other than clothes and music. Maybe even to act out a role or two.

I looked up at Alaerec, who was watching me with that assessing glance of his. "Well?"

I smiled, and extended my hand. "Of course I'll help. What kind of friend wouldI be if I didn't?"

The boyish grin on his face at that moment was worth any regret I had in the future.

* * *

Post-A/N: I dunno when I'm gonna get the next chappie up--this and school's kinda drained me. I'll try two weeks, and then I'll cross my fingersand hope for the best.

Signing off,  
nebulia


	14. Some Fantastic

A/N: Finally! A new chapter.

Yes, after a very long hiatus, I am back…with Chapter twelve! In it, I mix vague humor with a little angst and a little bit of…er, info

And to FelSong—thanks for reminding me about the Sartor/Norsunder thing. I'm afraid I added that when I was in a hurry and couldn't remember the names of any of the countries. I fixed it, because I was reminded by your comment and then when I re-read it it bothered me to know end. I like accuracy in my stories. 

And here it is: the chapter where Elestra discovers something-or-other regarding Alaerec and her feelings…well, if you don't get it (but you're a sleuthy bunch, so you probably do), you'll figure it out.

Don't own it.

Dedicated to rubic-cube, my fiftieth reviewer!

**

* * *

Some Fantastic**

_Your tea? Has it removed your cough?  
__--from _Ton Thé, _a traditional French song_

I was out of bed the next day, and walking only a candle-change after. It was refreshing and invigorating to be out of bed, especially after being in bed for so long. Ermliana and I walked around my rooms, and even down to hers, before I tired and we returned to my parlor to talk and have tea and coffee.

It was a conversation that was tainted by my father's execution, and by the fact that we had heard nothing from Alaerec for the whole day. Ermliana and I had finally convinced Jhussav that morning to attend a race or two and try to put his mind on something else, but I could hardly walk still and Ermliana refused to leave me.

"I won't let you wallow in your misery alone in bed," she told me. "I'm going to stay with you; you need a friend right now."

"But, Ermliana," I argued, "two miserable people is worse than one."

She drew me into a hug. "Hush, Lessie. A friend gives you a shoulder to cry one, but a best friend cries with you," she told me, reciting an old proverb. "So if you're miserable, I'll be miserable too, burn it!"

Eventually, our strained conversation trailed off, leaving us both in our own thoughts. Ermliana dozed for a time, exhausted by the past couple days, but I was unable to sleep after being forced to for so long.

_This was all my fault_.

I couldn't help but think that. After all, I was the one who had taunted Debegri a year almost a year ago; it was my fault. I had taunted him, he had told Marscopa; Marscopa killed my mother and bound me; I sent her the cloak; she cursed it; the Council of Mages came.

Perhaps Debegri's revenge had been a tad extreme, but I was the one who had caused him to seek revenge.

And two people—my parents—died because of _me_. I had killed my own parents. I was lower than low.

I brooded on this for the afternoon, and night fell. Ermliana left, hugging me tightly, at third-blue, and finally I cried myself to sleep in the parlor, lost in my self-pity.

* * *

"Less!"

I jerked awake the next morning, and in my sleepy haze observed a pair of sad gray eyes. "Oh, Lessie—"

"What?" I asked sleepily. "What time is it—" I rubbed my eyes, and glanced out the window to discover it was still dark.

As if on cue, the bells signaling third-white rang. I nodded. "Ah."

I turned back to the gray eyes, and realized they were connected to Alaerec. "Alec? What's wrong?"

He gathered me into a hug. "Oh, Lessie, I'm so sorry."

And I remembered what he was talking about.

_The execution_.

My father's execution was today.

I looked up at Alaerec, and realized his eyes were sparkling from unshed tears. Myown sight went blurry, and then there were tears streaking down my own face.

Alaerec's fingers stroked my hair. "I tried talking to him for almost all of yesterday, and I just made it worse. Now you have to go to the execution, too. Oh, Less, I don't know what I did, and I can't believe it—I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

I pulled away, and wiped my face. "S'all right," I snuffled, though we both knew it really wasn't. "I'll go get dressed."

I knew what the attire for executions was—not Court-wear, but not casual, either, just formal. No jewels. I never thought I'd have to use it, though.

I don't know how I did it, but somehow I was dressed, and Alaerec was leading me to Ermliana's room, where a maid dragged her out of bed, dressed, her, and told her the circumstances. She woke up right away, and then I was being supported by them. because he was too young, and I agreed fuzzily, almost drunkenly. And then we were out the noble's execution stand, and my father stood above the chopping block, and then he was on his knees in front of it.

I wobbled. I couldn't move, and I couldn't stay on my feet.

Alaerec took me in his arms and pressed my head into his doublet. I heard a thunk, and then silence, not the usual cheers.

Silence, save for the muffled sobbing of someone. And then I realized that that someone was me.

Thankfully, Alaerec took care of what little memorial arrangements there were. He managed to get the body from behind the back of Lourden, and it was burned honorably.

But nothing—not even my father's death—could prepare me for what came next.

* * *

Management.

Even though I had been Duchess of Savona for a year, I had hardly touched the management. I expected my father to live long enough to teach me it when I was a little older.

And so, after my sixteenth Name Day, Jhussav and I retreated to Tanliff-Savona and to a home I we hadn't seen since before my mother's death. The servants welcomed us with open arms and handkerchiefs and Peitar, the household manager, handed me five books he thought might be useful. "I found them in the library, your grace, and I assumed you needed help."

I looked at the titles. _Management. _

_Common Aristocratic Household Arithmetic. _

_Coming Out Smiling: An Autobiography of Jenethin Savona, Seventeenth Duke of Savona. _That was about a hundred fifty years ago, I figured quickly.

"That one," Peitar informed me, "Is as dull as four snoring bears as a biography, but he details the process of running Savona exactly."

I smiled, and glance at the other two books. _Protecting my Brother: A biography of Sherin Savona _and _Grief: Its processes and stages_.

"Those two I thought might be helpful as well," Peitar said.

I offered him a grateful smile, and then threw my arms around him. "Thank you!" I cried. "Thank you so very much."

Even though I read all the books within the first few days, as I sat down to the paperwork, I was utterly confused.

I held open _Coming out Smiling_, the most helpful book, in one hand and my pen in the other.

_I first began my duties as Duke by polishing my pen with…_I sighed. Next paragraph. _I then took a sheet of blank paper to work figures on and set it on my blotter, next to my inkwell, which I studiously filled with cobalt blue ink._

"My stars," I muttered, even though I'd read this passage before. "Must he go through _all_this?"

Four incredibly longparagraphs later, I finally got to the managing section.

_I took the sheaf of papers from the villagers in Tanliff-Savona and the other villages. Pulling out the first tax form, I neatly recorded the amounts owed and paid in two columns on my blank sheet carefully set on top of my blotter, bought from Jucun Merchants in Remalna-city. _

"Not so hard," I said softly. I followed Jenethin's instructions carefully, slowly going paragraph by paragraph.

What I got at the end was a load of rubbish. According to what I had done, I owed the government basically what it would cost to buy the entire country of Sartor—including people and personal belongings.

I gave up and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.

_Dear Alaerec…_

* * *

My hero arrived a week and a half later in a thunderstorm, leading a mud-splattered and lamed gray mare.

Once he was clean and the horse was being taken care of, he headed towards the library. When he opened pulled back the tapestry, he found me neck-deep in papers and cursing loudly.

He burst into laughter.

I was not happy. In fact, I cried, "Shut up, Alec! I need help!" which merely made him laugh harder.

Once he had calmed down, and was suddenly back in his serene Court mask, he helped me out of the mess I was surrounded by and said, "What's the problem, Lessie?"

"I keep doing the figures, and I get an astronomical sum and I've had Jhussav do it and he gets a totally different, incredibly _larger_ sum and I used up all the ink and I don't bloody get this!" I yelled.

Alaerec grinned at me, obviously trying not to laugh. "Relax, Lessie. Relax." He sifted through the papers, finally pulling out the list of taxes from the people in Savona and my calculations, which were always the exact same. He glanced over them once and said, "I see where you went wrong."

"_What?" _I asked, stunned that he had seen it so quickly.

He grabbed my left arm with his right and drug me over to him, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pointing at the paper with it. It was a harmless friendly gesture that he used often when he was pointing out something to me, yet this time my shoulders tingled where he had touched me.

"Here," he said calmly, pointing to a spot just after my sums where I was supposed to multiply the sums by a certain amount of money—the very last step. Why, I didn't know, but that was what Jenethin had written (and what it had said to do in the management book), so that's what I did.

Unfortunately, Alaerec pointed out my mistake with ease _not_ because he was smart and skilled at this, but because I was an idiot. "You're supposed to subtract that money from the sums, not multiply by it. That money is your salary. And this—" he said, pointing to a sum I'd doodled down, not sure where it fit in, "is your brother's allowance. Since he is still a child, he receives that. This," he added, pointing to the sum at the bottom of another column that I didn't know how to fit in, "are Savona's profits for the month. First you subtract your salary and Jhussav's allowance from the taxes, and then you subtract that from the profit. The remaining sum is what Savona made for the month. It goes in Savona's account, and half of it is distributed evenly to each person in Savona at the end of the year. The other half stays in Savona's account and is used in emergencies. And, though this is frowned upon, you can occasionally take some of it out for emergencies of your own, though your salary usually covers it. But if there's a terrible storm and your castle is destroyed, you may have to use some of the money."

"Right," I said, "Extenuating circumstances only."

He smiled. "Exactly. Do you get it?"

"That's it?" I asked. "It's that easy?"

"Well, you have to remember to send in your second sum—your tax product after subtracting the Savona family allowance—to Athanarel, of course. And," he added, cuffing me gently on the head, "you have to remember to subtract, not multiply."

I hit him right back, and we laughed.

* * *

Alaerec stayed a while, helping me with the daily paperwork, the pretty simple stuff unlike monthly taxes. It was nice to have him there—and disturbing.

It was too _right_. I hated the paperwork, though I enjoyed going out personally to Tanliff-Savona to collect taxes and just talk with the villagers. They were wonderful people—kind and wholesome and totally devoid of Court masks.

And it was all like a vacation, being with Alaerec, and having people smile _real_ smiles and not having to worry about gossip or Lourden or Arthal.

But Alaerec would sit next to me and help me do the tiring, easy stuff, stuff that took forever, and we would talk and laugh and he would drop the Court mask and grin. When he grinned, it was boyish and buoyant and happy, and I liked him immensely.

He really _was_ handsome, and I liked to look at him. And then I would look away, trying not to blush, and, most of the time, succeeding.

These new feelings were disturbing. In a way, they were similar to my brief crush (when I was thirteen) on Ermliana's older brother Lestran.

But they were different, too. They weren't quite as strong—not that my crush for Lestran had ever been strong—or perhaps they were stronger, but ran deeper under the surface.

But whenever he touched me, I felt a little tingle run up my spine.

I had never felt anything like that for Alaerec before—not even when he had kissed me. I had liked the kiss, but it hadn't made me shiver all over like Alaerec touching my hand did.

And, somehow, despite my typical clumsiness and my problems with keeping a Court mask on, I kept it hidden. I had to fight down a blush often, but I succeeded every time.

There were times when I wondered, late at night, what it really was. I would run down a list of emotions, quickly and slowly crossing them off. The final one was always _love_, that word that struck fear into my heart.

But it wasn't love, I decided. I _didn't_ love him. It was too shallow, too appearance focused. I had finally decided that it was a touch of lust—Alaerec _was_ attractive—blown out of proportion by adolescence. It would blow over quickly.

Or so I had hoped.

* * *

Post-A/N: Dun-dun-dun!

Yep. Review.

Signing off,  
nebulia


	15. One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

A/N: Another chapter. In this chapter we meet Nimiar's namesake (yes, I changed the spelling of the name slightly, as you may notice) who is suspiciously familiar—as a matter of fact, she acts _quite_ a bit like _Pride and Prejudice's_ Mrs. Fanny Bennet! (cough cough—and if you haven't read P&P you're seriously missing out.) She's also Ermliana's mom.

There's also a heavy dose of angst in this chapter. A little like Leia Organa from Star Wars after she's been tortured by Darth Vader, Elestra has serious problems whenever Debegri talks to her and is quite afraid. However, she is certainly cheered up by the arrival of Mrs. Bennet—er, Lady Argaliar.

Yep. Enjoy. Don't own.

**One Step Forward and Two Steps Back**

At one point during his visit, Alaerec and I went out on a long ride. We packed a picnic luncheon and left before dawn, hoping to reach a small abandoned military fort in the forest by third-gold.

The ride there was silent, quiet, but in a peaceful way. It was not awkward; it was simply that we didn't feel like speaking. At one point we had a race that ended when I was thrown into a muddy creek and Alaerec laughed so hard he nearly fell off his horse. But mostly it was quiet, and I liked it. It was whole, complete, _right_.

However, I did have some questions to ask him about our plans for—well, I wasn't sure what to call it. The Revolution, I guessed. And I wanted to talk.

And so, as we sat on the wall of the fort, eating our lunches hungrily, I quietly asked, "What should I do about…you know?"

The corners of Alaerec's mouth turned up slightly. He took a bite of cheese, chewed, and swallowed. Then he said, "Have you told your brother?"

I had just taken a bite of cheese myself, and I shook my head. "Too young," I told him as I swallowed. "He's only eleven."

Alaerec nodded. "After you left, I told Ermliana. She agreed, and, since she doesn't have to worry about lands, she'll stay at Court whenever we're gone and keep us informed. She already writes monthly letters to my parents in Renslaeus."

"Why don't you?" I asked.

"Mother wants the gossip, too," Alaerec responded dryly. "What do _I _know of gossip?" I laughed.

We sat in silence for a moment, and then I asked, "What should I do?"

Alaerec frowned. "History. Learn as much as you can about past wars and what places different people and counties had in the government. For example, the Merindars have been draining Tlanth of funds ever since they took power, but the Calahanras family and Tlanth have in intermarried twice in the past five hundred years. At one point seven hundred years ago, there was an Astiar king. Tlanth is much poorer than it used to be. Your friend Timerius will have problems when he becomes Count. Just _know_. Read your family histories. They make excellent reading material when you are very bored. We have to be wise in the ways of the past to make the ways of the future right. Read philosophy. Political philosophy. Satires of the government. Those sorts of things." Alaerec paused for a moment, and then added, "And one more thing. This is the most important, I think. Develop a persona. A carefree persona. I would say foppish, but that typically refers to a male. But you know. Shallow. It shouldn't be too hard for you considering how much you enjoy acting."

I nodded. "We're not _doing_ anything?"

Alaerec smiled a little and shook his head. "Elestra, there are _three_ of us. What would we do?"

I remembered that fact suddenly and ducked my head, chastised. "Oh. I forgot."

Alaerec slipped an arm around my shoulders and I leaned against him. "It will take a long time," he said softly. "We will fight probably far into Galdran's rule but we _will_ stop it, Lessie, I promise."

"I promise, too," I said. "I promise, too."

After a month and a half spent at Tanliff-Savona, Alaerec, Jhussav, and I left for Athanarel again.

It was odd. Though I was greeted by Ermliana, my staff, and my old familiar rooms in Residence, I didn't feel like I was coming home. Oh, I mean I was happy that Ermliana was there—ecstatic, even—and it was wonderful to see my staff again, and the rooms were as beautiful and perfect as ever, but it was nothing like coming home to Tanliff-Savona. Tanliff-Savona was home.

It was then that I knew that Athanarel could never be home. And that revelation both scared and shocked me.

After my father's execution, Court was not a thing I looked forward to. Especially with the new styles. The gown was flimsy, with just a shift underneath, and I felt like I was in a nightgown. In fact, compared to my brand new undergarment of a Court dress, I actually _liked_ the old style, with all its many jewels and blinding gaudiness.

"How did the styles change so fast?" I hissed as I stood next to Ermliana in a corner of the throne room.

"Meni Thorniv of Kestrel, the leader of fashion, remarried and left just after you did. Lady Morish of Chamadis, my fourth cousin, I think, took over and she thinks she looks—_ahem­­—_better in things like this." She picked a ribbon off her gown and flicked it out, watching it float gently back down onto the surface of her skirt. Then she discreetly pointed to a tall, willowy woman at the front. The floaty gown clung to her many curves. I glanced at Ermliana and we rolled our eyes, trying not to laugh.

But I digress. Court was not enjoyable. Lourden enjoyed the occasional mocking look over in our direction, as if he knew that I feared him desperately. Debegri was much more open; most days he 'accidentally' bumped into me and inquired after the health of my father. The first three times he did so I burst into tears and fainted, and even months after it was difficult for me not to run off to my rooms sobbing.

I was lonely. I was afraid, even, a little.

Debegri's anger was whole; I don't think he could ever get enough revenge for my moment of wrath and consequent destruction of Marscopa. As I tried to settle back into the Court routine, I came to terms with the fact that Debegri loved Marscopa, and while his feelings may have been unrequited, they still existed. And he was angry. As angry and sad as I was, but—

When I reasoned it, I couldn't see the difference between us. Only that in a moment of rage I had provoked him and he had destroyed my mother and then he had still been angry.

And now he still was angry.

I was, too. But now I was afraid as well. Because I was too cowardly to seek revenge against him, and he—well, he wasn't.

For the longest time—my whole, life, in fact—I had enjoyed being one of the few young people at Court. Even now, I still was, though the generation of older Court leaders was slowly dying. Why, Morish of Chamadis was barely thirty-eight when five years ago the fashion leader, the Countess of Hordin, had been forty-five. Being one of the only children at Court had given me the freedom to explore, the freedom to spy, and, because of it, I enjoyed solitude.

But now I simply longed to blend in. To be somewhere where Debegri couldn't find me alone and hiss in my ear as he passed.

He tried—other things, too, the first time we encountered each other in a hallway. But I screamed and he ran, leaving me clinging and sobbing to the bust of Queen Thereaz.

It was as though being _here_, where everything had happened, made the grief raw and horrible. When I had been in Savona, I was sad, I missed him, but here I was a mess of tears and fear.

Then I discovered the one place I felt safe in: the library.

No one went to the library; or at least no one of importance to me, so I felt safe. I read there—histories, Court reports, the things Alaerec told me to read. I also read about fashion, past fashion and today's styles and I read plays to copy the shallow women in them. I practiced flirting on Alaerec. I talked gossip with Ermliana. We laughed sometimes, but mostly it was serious. It was so strange to do things that were supposed to be fun, like practicing silly acts of courtliness, but make them not fun. But Alaerec and Ermliana and I spent our time in the library, and it became my safe haven, my home away from home.

And so the months passed easily, or easier than I had hoped. Until preparations for Ermliana's Flower Day began.

Ermliana was excited. She enthusiastically had fittings for a dress, and her mother, who lived with Lestran and Liselia and whom I had met twice, even came to Athanarel to help with planning.

"Oh, Ermliana!" she shrieked when she arrived. "I missed you _so much!"_ She enclosed my friend in a tight hug.

"You always could've visited, Mother," Ermliana choked out.

Lady Neemiar Argaliar was a woman of medium height and plump build. She was nearing sixty-five and had not aged well. Her hair was an unappealing mixture of gray and muddy brown and her face was lined and wrinkled. But it was obvious that she had been attractive as a young woman, albeit annoying.

When Lady Neemiar arrived, I stood between Lestran and Alaerec, Lestran, who had been notorious at Court for having problems with small children (they liked him a _lot_, and he—well, he didn't like them a lot back), and was holding his squirming four-year-old son, Johann. He leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, "Johann is insistent he'll name his daughter after her. I can only hope she will turn out better."

Alaerec snorted, but when we looked over at him his face was impassive. Liselia, meanwhile, on Lestran's other side, was having problems containing her laughter and I was coughing into my hand.

"Perhaps," I whispered back, "he will not have a daughter at all."

"Ah," Lestran said, "wouldn't that be nice?"

Liselia coughed into her hand. Alaerec let a small smile cross his face. We all turned out attention back to Ermliana and Lady Neemiar.

"And I hear," the old woman was saying, "That you are _quite_ close with Alaerec Renslaeus, the Marquis of Shevraeth and heir to Renslaeus?"

"He's a very good friend, Mother," Ermliana said through gritted teeth.

Lady Neemiar leaned in to Ermliana and said in what was supposed to be a whisper, "He's a very good match, Ermli. I'm proud of you."

Ermliana flushed crimson. Lestran and Liselia struggled not to laugh. I snorted and dissolved into a fit of badly concealed giggles. Alaerec went a slight pink color. Life, did that man ever blush?

_"Ermli?"_ I hissed to Lestran. He shrugged.

"No, Mother," Ermliana said smoothly, her face suddenly calm and eyes laughing. "I'm afraid his heart belongs to someone else."

I was suddenly sober and as red as Ermliana had been a moment ago. Alaerec went a darker pink.

We both knew what she thought. And though I doubted it was true, over the months I had begun to wish it so.

For my thought that I was merely unnerved by Alaerec's presence because I was a lustful adolescent were shattered when I returned to Court. There were many handsome men here in Athanarel, yet I felt nothing for them. And so I mused on what it was—and it was there.

Maybe it was love, and if it was, it had been there, buried deep in my heart, for a long time. But maybe it was just a crush, and if it was that, it would rear its ugly head and then vanish.

But I had no doubt that it was unreciprocated. I was not even past my Flower Day, though I could flirt if I wished to. Alaerec, meanwhile, was twenty-two, and I had no doubt that he would not want his best friend almost six years his junior.

And so I reasoned if it was love, I was doomed.

And so, as Ermliana's Flower Day neared, I decided that I was confused and exhausted and afraid and I needed amusement.

So I became friends with Lady Neemiar.

It was the proper choice. Lady Neemiar was just what I needed to take my mind off Debegri and Alaerec. It was hard for me to keep from laughing in her presence, but it was also a good way to keep up my new façade of shallowness. Apparently Lady Neemiar was quite popular amongst the ladies of Court—when she came to Court, that is. We had tea in her rooms after Petitioner's Court every day, and many of the leaders in fashion came to eat with her. Ermliana and I did as well.

The first several days I had tea with Lady Neemiar, I was quiet and, secretly nervous. I laughed at all the right times, and kept a smile on my face consistently, but I was always afraid someone would talk to me and I wouldn't know what to say. I did receive careful apologies the first few days from women my parents knew, but nothing more.

But five days after Lady Neemiar's arrival and four after my first day at tea, the conversation turned to one of the many forbidden topics—the King.

Alaerec's mother—Lourden's half-sister (she was his mother's eldest daughter, who had remarried the king after a previous marriage)—who was in Athanarel for the first time ten years, said, "I cut all affiliations with him after I married. I think he's always been touched in the head—insanity runs in the Merindar family."

"Perhaps," Meni Jeron of Orbanith-Kinsland said diplomatically, sipping her tea, "his wife's misdeeds and consequent dethroning have broken his heart and he simply lost his mind. It's not unheard of."

There was a chorus of agreements around the room. Even Alaerec's mother had to agree with that.

I felt a nudge in my side. Ermliana was giving me a look. _Say something_, she mouthed.

"Yes," I agreed quietly. "That might be it but—" I was momentarily startled as fifteen pairs of eyes turned towards me. I took a breath and continued. "But the Merindars have made it so that the King has absolute power. Think of two hundred years ago, when the Calahanras family was in power. There was a King, and he had absolute power, but the Court could overrule him in cases of insanity. When the Merindars took over, after the last Calahanras king died and his sister moved to Sartor, they slowly changed the rules, refusing the Court any chance to override the King's decisions. We can't do anything."

My monologue was met with stunned stares and a few dropped jaws. I resisted the urge to mimic them.

After a moment of silence, Alaerec's mother poured herself another glass of tea and said, "Well said, your grace."

I managed to dip my head gracefully and the moment was gone, leaving me feeling both vulnerable and triumphant.

It wasn't until I was back in my room that I realized that the shallow Elestra wouldn't have said something like that. I felt as though I had let down Alaerec, and I knew I had to tell him.

Unfortunately, he reached me first.

* * *

A/N: Yep. It's a cliffie! 

Sorry; I just got back from a nine-day choir tour and am suffering from severe sleep deprivation, acaffeine high (I mean, come on! no chocolate of Coke for nine days; of course I just drank two bloody liters of the stuff!),and Disneyland overload. So I'm kinda loopy. I'll try to update soon, I'm not sure when, though; I'm _really_ busy. But it'll be July 16, at the earliest, so see ya then.

And, of course, don't forget to review!

_Signing off,  
nebulia_


	16. A Miserable Pair

A/N: Here it is, a slightly shorter update but an update nonetheless. Enjoy.

As usual, thanks for your glorious reviews. I love them, they make me happy. However, due to the new rule, I cannot reply to you. If you want me to send a copy of a really, really good "Against the no-replying-to-review rule" petition, tell me and I'll e-mail you it. A friend of a friend in the Harry Potter fandom started it, and it'll hopefully have 5,000 names on it by the time it's finished.

Disclaimer: I own ERmliana, Stew, Ermliana's mom, Nira, Ioniand Throniv's name. Everyone else is Sherwood Smith's.

Now, without further ado...chapter 15!

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* * *

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**A Miserable Pair**

_And the road goes on_

_Seeming ever longer..._

_And the road goes on_

_Forever and I wander..._

_Forever and I wonder..._

_--Blackmore's Night, "Way to Mandalay"_

It had been a tough day in Court; I knew that much. Not only had it been busy, but Lourden had been cruel and there had been four murder trials for small-time pirates who had merely stolen a bit--they hadn't even burnt anything or killed anyone. Typically, that would simply justify a few years in prison, yet all of them had been sentenced to death. It had been a bad day. But I hadn't realized just _how_ bad it had been for Alaerec.

Alaerec, my slow-tempered friend, burst into my room without knocking and sat down in the chair angry.

"What were you _thinking_, Elestra?" he hissed. "Do you want to know how much I had to pay the butler to not report to Lourden?"

As much as I knew that what I had said was not right, I wasn't aware it was that bad. I was expecting him to be disappointed, that was for sure, but angry? I hadn't expected it.I had never even seen him angry at me.

"I-I'm sorry," I whispered, "I didn't realize it was that bad. It was allhistorical fact--anyone who wanted to go to the library and find it out. And all the ladies agreed--"

Alaerec grabbed my wrist. "Elestra! There are spies everywhere! How can you possibly forget that? Lourden's got just about every servant on his side--life, he's draining the treasury so that he can pay them to report to him!"

"I didn't know that!" I said defensively, yanking my wrist away from him. "I'm new at this stuff--and, other than Ermliana, I was the only person under the age of thirty-five in there! How would you like a bunch of old married women staring at you piteously every day for tea? The only reason I even went is to play the little part you wanted me to play!"

Alaerec shook his head at me, the anger obvious in his eyes. "I thought you were mature for your age. I thought you wanted to help. But now you just seem like a snarky little child."

In the thirteen years I'd known Alaerec, he'd never been angry at me. But this--this was _horrible_. I felt tears prickling the back of my eyes, and shoved them back.

And then something occurred to me.

"Alec, are you _drunk?"_

I lit a few glowglobes decoratively arranged on a low table. Alaerec's face lit up, showing dark circles around his red-rimmed eyes. Not drunk, then.my inner cynic told me,Just tired.

Oh, please let him be drunk.

"I am _not_ drunk!" Alaerec said. His voice was intense, but still quiet. "I'm just fed up with your childish behavior!Look at you!Your father'sbeen dead nearly a year, Elestra! And yet every time you see Debegri you get all teary! He's a bastard, Elestra, you know it as well as I do, but you can't hide from him! You've got to face him head-on! But you're acting just as immature as he is!"

"Burn it, Alaerec!" I hissed. "He didn't kill your parents! He didn't ruin your childhood, did he?"

The tears threatening to spill out of my eyes finally did, and I turned so Alaerec wouldn't see me cry (Futile--he'd seen me start to cry, but I have my pride).

Silence.

Then Alaerec let out a huge sigh and sat down on a cushion. "Life, Elestra, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." He set his elbows on his knees and cradled his face in his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "Maybe I am a little drunk--I had some punch tonight. I worry about you too much, you know."

I turned and sat on the cushion next to him. "I should be a lot angrier than this," I said (still slightly tearfully). "But you were right, too. I should face Debegri head-on. It's what he's not expecting, right?" My voice broke, and Alaerec put an arm around me. I leaned into his shoulder.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" he said wearily.

I nodded miserably.

We sat there for several bell-changes, not talking, not sleeping, just sitting. And then, at second-white, Alaerec said, "Will you be fine?"

I nodded, and then told him yes.

At least that was the plan, but I only managed to nod once and then I said, "No."

"I won't, either," he responded. "I won't either."

And we sat there for the rest of the night.

* * *

Preparations for Ermliana's Flower Day party began to get much more serious just two days later. I was fitted for a new dress--slate blue with sapphires _everywhere_ (the gaudy style was back in, but now it was jewels _on_ the flimsy dresses previously popular) and a high empire waistline. It was pretty enough, and though the empire waistline was not the style, it flattered my short, slim figure better than what _was_ popular.

Ermliana was frantic over a week after that--she and her mother had been in a monstrous fight and her mother had told her to plan the restofthe partyherself.

Alaerec, busy though he was, lent Ermliana his steward to do the catering, who was training his young son in the business.

The boy's name was Throniv, and he was thirteen. He had a younger sister, Mora, who was around ten and had goals to be a ladies' maid. Their mother had died in the childbirth of the third child in the family, and so Mora was entrusted to my maid for a short time.

Truthfully, Mora was one of the scariest children I'd ever met, and since I'd met Arthal and Galdran, that was saying something. She had perfected a Court mask that rivaled Alaerec's, and her eyes seemed almost dead. Of course, it might've been her mother's death, though I doubted it.

Fortunately, Mora was taken under the wing of a real ladies' maid (mine was just a glorified nanny who was good at doing my hair), the maid of a woman in the north who was everything Mora wanted to serve. A week after I met her, and she was gone.

Throniv was almost as inscrutable as his sister, though he did laugh at the occasional joke. When he wasn't working, he joined Ermliana and I (and sometimes Alaerec) from wherever we were supervising, where he laughed and even talked some. His father, meanwhile, was a short, jolly, corpulent fellow who was everything his tall, quiet, slender children were not. He had a penchant for bawdy songs and funny limericks and Ermliana thought he was simply hysterical. I never caught his name, for everyone called him Stew--short for steward.

And so, while Ermliana; Stew; Nira, the woman in charge of the music; and Ioni, the woman in charge of decorations struggled away to have the ballroom ready by Ermliana's Flower Day _and _wonderful enough to satisfy her mother, I spent what little time I had to myself alone in the library.

But I didn't read. Rather, I thought. And mostly about Alaerec.

The argument after the tea party incident had been something of a milestone in our friendship. Alaerec and I had not spoken of the fight since that night, and _I_ certainly was in no hurry to do so. But it were his words that made me think the most.

_I worry about you too much, you know._

But I hadn't known. It had surprised me. Alaerec worried little; he had little time to worry and he was optimistic that everything would be just fine. But his worrying about me told me something.

Maybe--maybe he liked me back.

Of course he likes you back,my inner cynicsaid. He's been your best friend for twelve years. But he doesn't love you.

I'm not in love, I convinced myself. I'm not in love.

What a load of horse dung, the inner cynic (and my conscience) said.

I ignored it.

* * *

Stew was friendly and kind and jolly, but I never once heard him talk about his personal life or express an opinion. His true emotions were always inscrutable, and that made him scarier than Mora, in my opinion.

However, he gave excellent advice.

I found this out from Throniv, who had told us that his father was something of a general advisor for the servants and even sometimes the Prince and Princess at Renslaeus. So, as I sat in the library, trying not to tell myself I was in love with Alaerec, I decided it was time to ask for advice.

Normally, I would've asked Ermliana, but knowing her, I dreaded what she might say to Alaerec. She couldn't know anything about it yet.

So, while Stew was eating lunch--by himself, oddly enough--I snuck into the kitchens. "Hello, Stew."

He looked up from his (very large) sandwich, and said, "Why, if it isn't her grace the Duchess of Savona!" he cried jovially. "Is there something I can do for you?"

I sat down next to him and said, "Please, just Elestra will do. And yes, there is something you can do for me. I need a little advice."

His eyebrow shot up. "Oh?"

"But you can't tell _anyone_. Not even your kids or anyone. And _especially_ not the Renslaeuses."

He chuckled. "I think I know where you're going with this."

I looked up at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"You're in love with the Marquis."

The Marquis...oh. The Marquis of Shevraeth. Alaerec.

I blushed hotly. "WEll--I mean--ye--no!"

He raised an eyebrow at me. Finally I said, "I guess I am. What do I do now?"

"Good! at least_you're _admitting it."

Before I could question what that meant, he said, "I can't help you much here."

My face fell. "Whyever not?"

Stew chortled, and said, "Because, My dear, I've never been in love. And I have no desire to be. However, I will tell you this: love is nothing to be ashamed of. Tell him how you feel."

"He'll reject me! He's been my best friend for thirteen years! I couldn't do that! It would totally destroy our friendship!"

Stew laughed again and then knelt close to the table. "Well, Elestra, I probably shouldn't tell you this," he whispered, "but half of the kitchen servants have a betting pool on when Alaerec will finally lose his composure and tell you he loves you."

Oh, boy.

* * *

Post-A?N: Well, interesting stuff goin' on...ph, yes, veeery interesting. 

Review!


	17. Thinking is Tiring

**A/N: **OK, I know this is short, but NaNoWriMo is about to start so there won't be any updates for a month. I know I haven't update din a while, but I haven't given up this story yet; I swear! Don't worry; I'll finish it if it's the last thing I do.

So, I'll see you all in December! Happy Halloween and Thanksgiving!

Disclaimer: I only own Ermliana. Everything else is the lovely Sherwood Smith's.

**Thinking is Tiring**

_I feel  
As if I'm looking at the world through the bottom of a well  
Lonely  
And the only way to beat is to bat it down  
And the only way to beat is to bat down…  
--Mike Doughty, "Looking at the world from the bottom of a well"_

I didn't believe him. Alaerec? In love? With me? I was short and slim, with few curves, unlike the fashion of the time. I was _very_ short compared to Alaerec, who towered over me.

On top of that, I was barely seventeen—still a child. Though I had matured greatly since my mother's death almost three years previous, I still thought like a child. I still _was_ a child. Alaerec was an adult—destined to leave on his tour of the world after Ermliana's Flower Day.

So, at least a year without him here. And he would probably meet some ambassador who was tall and thin and graceful, and fall out of love with me—that is, if he was in love with me in the first place. Which he wasn't.

_Life!_ I thought as I lay on a cushion behind a little-used shelf in the library. It was hopeless. I suffered from unrequited love. End of story. And he wasn't going to know…it would just make things awkward. I could hardly face him as it was.

The bells chimed second-green, and I winced. I had shirked on Court duty today; I had more important things to think about. And Ermliana's party was tonight…and the bathhouses would be empty. Time to relax, I decided, returning to my rooms and grabbing a towel and fresh gown.

The bath was heavenly; hot and soothing my aching muscles. I sighed as I tilted my head back and dumped water over my hair.

I hadn't realized it had gotten so long; it reached nearly to my waist. Of course, it was nothing compared to Yolandis' of Tlanth—hers was at least knee-length. I finger-combed the damp locks and sighed again, dunking my head under the water. "I never knew thinking could be so tiring," I murmured aloud.

"It's not supposed to be."

I whirled, my hair smacking me in the face as I did so. Ermliana stood there, looking half-amused, half-rueful. "I should've figured you'd be here today," she said. "You seemed rather…off this morning."

I gave her a careful smile. "I've just had a lot to think about," I said.

"Bull," she said, smiling slightly at her use of the servants' term. "You're a bad liar sometimes, Lessie. At least to me you are." She hopped into the bath, catching her breath as the hot water his her body. Dunking her head, she came up, twisting wet curls on top of her head, and said, "It's about Alec, isn't it?"

My mouth moved without my brain telling me to, and before I knew it I said, "How did you—" and then cut off, totally confirming it.

And Ermliana knew it; she burst into laughter, shooting a grin at me. "Well, if I hadn't known already, that would've confirmed it. Look, Less, I see things, too. I have a penchant for romance novels, remember?"

I rolled my eyes. "Thank goodness that the scribes have more important things to do than write most of those down."

She opened her mouth to counter the argument, and then shut it again, raising an eyebrow. "Trying to get me off-subject, are you? Well, I'll admit you're good, but it's not going to work; I know you and Alec too well. You're more alike than you think you are." She looked at me knowingly, and said, "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

I ducked my head, suddenly very interested in my fingernails as I let my hair hide my blush. Ermliana said, "Don't hide it from me, Less; I'll get it out of you somehow. You know it."

I _did_ know it. So I looked up and said, "Yes, I am in love with him, and _no_, you may not tell him, and _no_, I'm not going to tell him, either. Alec's leaving on his tour of the world tomorrow—he hasn't announced it, and he's not going to. But he's packed, and he'll leave without much pomp or circumstance, and find some pretty ambassador that will make a good Remalnan ally. He'll fall for her and they'll get married and have beautiful tall children together. I'll eventually find someone else to love and we'll all live in merry hell for the rest of our miserable lives."

"Wow." Ermliana's voice was flat; she was surprised and disappointed. "When did you get so cynical, Less?"

"When I started thinking about things rationally," I said calmly, masking the fact that I felt like I was being torn in two. No one, not even Ermliana, could know that.

Ermliana opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it once more. Heaving a huge sigh, she said, "Look we'll talk about this later."

I gave her a small smile. "You're right; this is your day, and we shouldn't be fighting—or doing whatever this is."

She grinned at me again, apologetically. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have brought it up."

And that was it. We talked of mundane things for the rest of our baths.

ooo

The party was fun, and certainly memorable, but nothing terribly interesting happened.

Well, Debegri did show up, and Arthal, as always was a pain, but I remember the party was so joyful and fun and a little punch-drunk that no one's mood was really ruined.

And Arthal wasn't _so_ bad; she was just ambitious. Granted, an ambitious nine-year-old was a little troubling, but she _was_ a Merindar, and we weren't related, so it wasn't my business.

But still, the memories I have of the party are happy ones, albeit slightly fuzzy.

But I was heading to my rooms at around third-white when I ran into Alaerec. He had left the party a little bit before, saying he 'needed to get some rest so he could be prepared for the nightmare that was Court.' Ermliana and I exchanged looks at that, but let him go.

But when I ran into Alaerec, I felt my brain sober slightly. I was still a touch euphoric, but my vision cleared.

I pressed my index finger into his chest hard, and glared up into his eyes. "You're leaving, and we know it," I said firmly, "and if you think you're going without a goodbye, then you've got another think coming."

All right, so maybe I was drunker than I thought.

Alaerec laughed and led me to my rooms. "That, Lessie, was why I was coming to see you. I wanted to say goodbye. I'll be leaving soon, probably around first-gold, so I just stopped in the ballroom where Ermliana was laying around moaning about the hangover she'll have in the morning and bid her farewell."

I smiled thinly at him. "Alec…I'll miss you."

He grinned, a real, boyish grin that I always treasured, rubbed my cheek with his thumb, and said, "Of course you will, Less. But I'll be back in a year for your Flower Day. I promise."

My heart was thudding, and my cheek tingled under his finger. I was way too drunk for this. And I'd only had three glasses of punch…was that enough to get this badly drunk? I'd had more before…

"Alec?" I asked softly, feeling tears prickle the back of my eyes. "You won't bring back any crazy wives that don't speak Remalnan or Rensare, right?"

He chuckled softly. "What makes you think I would bring back a wife, let alone more than one? I have everything I need right here."

The bells sounded out the sign for first-gold. I flung my arms around Alaerec tightly. "Come back soon, you silly man," I whispered into his chest. "You were pretty dumb for not telling us. Ermliana and I had to figure it out on our own."

"I knew you would figure out, so I thought you didn't need to know." Alaerec said amusedly.

I looked up at him, seeing his shimmer through my tear-filled eyes, but didn't let go of my grip around his waist. "You're good, Alec," I said, grinning. "Real smooth."

He lifted one had from my waist to brush away the tears that were beginning to run down my cheek. One slim finger brushed my lips, and we both froze.

And there we were, staring at each other, and for one brief second I thought he was going to kiss me again. I felt my eyes begin to drift closed, and—

The sounds of the day starting outside my door startled us both out of our reverie. "You'd best be going," I said, letting go of him. "Don't want anyone to know you're leaving," I teased, trying to lighten the air.

He grinned at me cheekily. "Exactly." Dropping a kiss on my forehead, he left.

My hand drifted to my forehead as I watched the tapestry drift shut behind him.

Life, I had it bad. How was I going to survive?

Frankly, I didn't know.


End file.
